Auld Acquaintance
by Satellites on Parade
Summary: The year is 1941, and superheroes are a fresh and rare breed. Breaking away from their mentors and inhibitions are six teenagers with ambitions and abilities that cannot be placed aside forever. 1940s AU.
1. Prologue I

**Auld Acquaintance**

**A _Young__ Justice_ AU**

**written by _Satellites__ on __Parade_**

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><p><em>Should auld acquaintance be forgot,<em>

_and never brought to mind?_

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

_for auld lang syne?_

_For auld lang syne, my dear;_

_for auld lang syne._

_We'll take a cup of kindness yet,_

_for auld lang syne._

— Auld Lang Syne, Robert Burns

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

**Happy Harbor, Rhode Island**

**January 1st, 1941 – 12:01 AM EST**

Wallace Rudolph West had a good feeling about 1941.

Evidently, everyone else shared this feeling with him, if the boisterous display of euphoria throughout the warmly lit restaurant was any indication. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the effervescent smell of champagne, and even though he was only fifteen, Wally felt years ahead of himself, sprinting along beside the future in a race to the horizon. The sounds of the countdown that ended moments ago still buzzed in his ears, causing goosebumps to run up and down his arms.

He glanced up at his Uncle Barry Allen, who was grinning at the bartender as he accepted a glass of champagne, raising it in a toast to no one in particular. Wally presumed that he's just a tiny bit tipsy, like everyone else is – except, of course, for Wally himself and the two friends he had managed to drag along. After sharing a wide smile with his uncle, he craned his neck around to attempt to find said friends.

After a moment, he spotted them, loitering over by the pool table. With all the agility of a cat, he forged his way toward them, reaching them in moments even through the elbow-to-elbow layers of the throng.

"Pretty swell party, huh, fellas?" Wally said with a grin as he walked to stand next to the youngest of the three of them, a sly-looking boy with dark hair and peculiar sunglasses. "You enjoying it, Rob?"

"I'd say so," Robin said, cocking an eyebrow and surveying the crowd with apathy. "I'm on my fifth Roy Rogers." As if to prove this statement, he picked his glass up off the surface of the pool table and took several gulps through the straw.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Wally snickered and turned his head to the other boy, the eldest, a tall, pensive African-American with disconcertingly blond hair whose milky eyes gazed wistfully toward the exit. "Okay there, Kal?"

"Yes," he answered calmly. "These customs, however, they… perplex me."

"Maybe they should plex you," Robin muttered, still slurping his soda. "Jeez, I wish Babs was here."

Ignoring his friend's latter comment, Wally focused his attention on Kaldur and folded his arms.

"What's so confusing?" He paused briefly at the end of his sentence before quickly appending, "I mean… you don't have to answer or anything; I just figured since we haven't known you very long, we could… get to know each other, and…"

"It is all right. In Atlantis," Kaldur explained in a conspiratorial tone, leaning toward Wally so as to avoid speaking at normal volume, "the start of a New Year is not until the spring begins, and even then it is a time to revere the power of the King and the Sea, and to thank them for another successful cycle beneath the Surface."

"Sounds dull as dirt," Robin grunted frankly, downing the remainder of the Roy Rogers in one swing. "Glad _I_ don't have to live in a place like that."

"You say that every time, Rob," Wally hissed.

"It is far superior to this place," Kaldur whispered, brow tightening almost imperceptibly. "There, I am treated with respect, with dignity, and am not jeered at in the streets like a dog—"

"You think Speedy's going to show up anytime soon?" Robin interjected hurriedly as if the topic of conversation was slightly too unpleasant for his tastes, and Wally shot a piteous glance Kaldur's way.

"Can't say for sure." Wally shrugged, eyes flicking through the now-dancing crowd in search of their absent companion. "He's probably busy with Green Arrow."

The other two boys nodded contemplatively at this, and the conversation dwindled into amicable silence as the trio regarded the escalating party with indifference (and a bit of longing).

"I've got a good feeling about this year," Wally stated after a few minutes, staring out at the restaurant with uncanny eyes. Robin and Kaldur tilted their heads at him. "I do."

"Any particular reason?" Robin prodded, rubbing at a small shrimp cocktail stain on his blazer with disdain.

"I just do," Wally said frankly, raising his arms to lace his hands behind his head, causing his favourite burgundy wool-and-gabardine jacket to stick out at his waist. "I feel like we're gonna do something big this year, boys. Something _big_."

"Sounds like a swell party," Robin jibed sarcastically. "Sweller than this one, anyway." He turned toward Kaldur. "Where'd Aquaman go?"

"I presume he ventured outside," Kaldur answered with a distant nuance in his voice. "The atmosphere here is stifling, especially for Atlanteans like ourselves."

"You want to get some air?" Wally offered, but Kaldur shook his head.

"I will be all right. Perhaps you should focus on your uncle at the moment…"

Wally blinked and followed Kaldur's pointed nod toward the bar, at which Uncle Barry was now sprawled out with a goofy grin on his face while the bartender patted his head jovially.

"I think it's about time for me to go," he said with a tortured sigh. Kaldur's eyes twinkled with a possible smile.

"Do not feel guilty for leaving me. I will see you again soon enough."

Robin tapped Wally's shoulder.

"I can still come by until Bats picks me up, right?"

"Sure."

At the prospect of this, Robin's normally drawn face visibly brightened, and he trotted beaming alongside Wally as they approached the bar.

"Happy New Year, Uncle Barry," Wally said with a mischievous grin as he clapped his uncle on the shoulder. Barry grunted in response, his forehead on the surface of the bar, and Robin watched him skeptically.

"How's he supposed to drive all the way back to your place if he's drunker than Veronica Lake?"

"Veronica Lake isn't a _drunk_," Wally choked out, appalled. Robin smirked.

"Not _publicly_."

"Well, on the subject of driving, Uncle Barry could always pass the buck to me," Wally suggested with a far too excited expression, and Robin shook his head firmly. Wally sighed, obviously disappointed. "Super-metabolism should be kicking in any sec."

"Kicking!" Barry shouted, sitting bolt upright at the word and looking wildly (and a bit hazily) from Wally to Robin with dazed eyes. "I need to drrrrive home."

"Right you are, Uncle Barry," Wally exclaimed with a dramatic Winston Churchill impersonation that made Robin stumble back cackling. "You've got ten seconds."

"I kin make it now," Barry protested, getting to his feet and swaying for a moment but not toppling. "Booze ain't got nothin' on me, Wall-man."

"I don't think I buy it." Wally stroked his chin suspiciously and Robin snorted.

"If the man insists," the pale boy urged, and within moments, Barry was sober enough to walk in a straight line to the Lincoln in front of the restaurant, gleaming beneath the snow.

"Hop in, boys," he said with a grin. "And be quick about it! New Year's Day don't last forever!"

"Why in the hell did they put 'for' before 'ever?' What kind of emphasis is _that_ supposed to have? I mean, I can see how it could be _two_ words, like _for__ ever_, but making it one word is just dumb, and…"

Wally fell asleep in the back seat to the sound of Robin's excitable chattering.

1941, he was absolutely certain as he dreamt, was going to be a good year. It was a year filled with possibilities that gathered hungry and tingling in the belly of his brain, and he could not help but want to catch it in his hands and run miles with it.

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><p><strong>End Prologue.<strong>


	2. Chapter One: Fireworks

**Kiddos, fellas, gals, ladies and gents! Boy howdy, hot dog. I'm a crazy person.**

**Well… welcome. I'm Satellites on Parade, and this is my **_**Young Justice**_** AU, **_**Auld Acquaintance**_**. No relation to the season one finale of the series itself, which I did not know about until now! This similarity was unintentional but will probably look really cool in retrospect!**

**So… I want to start this chapter off – this **_**story**_** off – with a few words. I love the 1940s. I love everything about them. I find them to be turbulent and fascinating and bewitching and something that I can hold close to me and understand. I love the people of the 1940s. I love the music. I love the speeches, the poems, the zeitgeist. Although I honestly couldn't care less about America, I love the patriotism of the 1940s, the sheer, immensely shared belief that victory was attainable at all times if only we worked hard and worked together.**

**I also love **_**Young Justice**_**. I love the characters, the stories, the feel of it, the plot. And I decided, after an impulsive Livestream last weekend in which I for fun doodled little miss M'gann M'orzz in a cloche and saddle shoes, that it might be a great and likely absurd idea to combine these two things that I love. This, and all the plans I have for it, is the result.**

**I'm not trying to rewrite these characters. I'm not trying to rewrite history. The first several chapters of this story will stay relatively true to the first several episodes of **_**Young Justice**_**, but eventually, this story will branch off on its own. Pearl Harbor will be attacked. Germany will be investigated for recon. Hiroshima and Nagasaki will be bombed, and eventually, the war will end. Kaldur being black will mean something. M'gann being an alien will be something she'll need to hide. Superboy will be a product of mad science, and Wally, well… Wally will be our guide for this first little arc, for the year 1941.**

**I would _really_ like to make it clear that any views expressed in this story are the views of the time, of the decade, and not at all of myself. I don't think it's weird that Aqualad's African-American, because that's the time we live in now. But they would have cared back then. Blacks didn't even start being _looked_ at until the U.S. became involved in World War II and they all fought in the army and became brothers in arms. Even then, the Civil Rights Movement didn't officially begin until 1955 and went on for thirteen years.  
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**I value history and will try my utmost to make everything about the era in which I've put these characters as accurate and believable as possible. I don't know if I'll ever finish this, but let's see how far I get and how many people actually care enough to ask me to do so.  
><strong>

**This is a long author's note and I need to shut up.**

**A thousand splendid thanks to my betas, missmelon12 and Jncera; and to all my Tumblr friends on the Livestream that night who inspired me to do this. **

**DISCLAIMER: I claim no ownership to or affiliation with any character/characters associated with **_**Young Justice**_**. **

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><p><strong>Chapter One:<strong>

_**Fireworks**_

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><p>"Never give in — never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty; never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense."<p>

— Winston Churchill (1941)

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><p>Wally West liked to think of himself as being something of a hero. A good egg, if you will. A regular pistol. He had three hobbies, two of which were acceptably valorous: good deeds, charity, and skirt chasing. Above all things, he enjoyed making things better for people. He liked making strangers smile, and he <em>especially<em> liked making _girls_ smile. His kindness was about as exemplary as his good looks.

He had always been like that, he supposed – nursing a penchant for benevolence – even before The Accident in 1939, the one that taught him how to run. That newfound ability, that ever-humming presence of adrenaline in the pit of his chest, had only further enabled him to do what he thought was right, even if it meant getting tossed around Happy Harbor from time to time and having to get a new cast put on every other month. It was all worth it. This was a sentiment he would carry with him until he was buried in the ground.

Of course, at the age of fifteen, Wally was not as noble or virtuous as he would grow to be in his later years. He was only rambunctious and tenacious and concerned especially with his own honor. He felt the raw presence of valor in him but did not know how to channel it or how important it was supposed to be. He only really knew that, if there was a fifth grader whose lunch money was being stolen, he needed to get over there and help the poor kid, regardless of black eyes. He only really knew that there was a fight to be had and it was a fight for something good, and that it didn't matter how many times he lost (every time) or how many black eyes he was administered, because he did _The Right Thing_, and that was all that really mattered.

Wally West was not perfect, despite his own insistence to the contrary.

He and Kaldur and Robin had a good thing going for them, though, albeit an unusual and rather hush-hush thing. Wally constantly hungered to be able to use his abilities on Tommy Jensen whenever he would try to teach him a lesson (whether or not there was one to be learned), and he was sure that his friends wanted the same thing.

He had known Kaldur for far less time than he had known Robin; as of the New Year's Day of 1941 (the one that he would never remember in his later years), his acquaintance with Kaldur had been made for a mere two weeks or so, and honestly, even after he had known the him for many years, Wally never quite understood the Atlantean boy who had come to the surface, all pale gazes and low tones.

Robin was another story entirely. Wally had met Robin just days before The Accident, and it had been through his Uncle Barry. Wally hadn't thought much of it at the time, that his uncle was buddies with the Batman, but it hadn't taken long for the sheer improbability of that association to hit him. It was this realization, along with unbounded admiration for (and, admittedly, jealousy of) the life led by Batman's quick little sidekick, who spent his days saving lives and dignities and actually having the good fortune to be thanked for it, that had prompted him to start rummaging through Uncle Barry's old, off-limits journals.

That was what Wally had been thinking in Barry's basement laboratory the day he recreated the experiment: _I want to be just like you._

It hadn't taken long after he was out of the hospital for him to understand that his suspicions of Uncle Barry's activities and cohorts had been altogether correct: he nearly shot through the roof in ecstasy when Uncle Barry told him that he was none other than the Flash, adored hero of Central City (whose autographs Wally did indeed have all over his bedroom wall, right next to the worn theatre poster of _Mr. Smith Goes to Washington_).

It had taken some getting used to, knowing that his uncle was a superhero, and once he was done getting used to _that_, he had to try being his sidekick on for size.

Kid Flash's debut was a wild hit all over Central City, despite the fact that the young speedster got his bum handed to him by Captain Cold. The police were nodding in approval, the housewives were giddily speculating that the boy dressed in yellow was the Flash's son, and the girls were swooning straight out of their saddle shoes (he liked that part). It didn't take long for Batman and Robin to swoop into Uncle Barry's apartment (during _dinner_, no less) and start demanding who this new sidekick was, how he came to be, whether or not he was Ready. It took even less time for Uncle Barry to answer all of his questions with ease, and for Wally and Robin to sneak into the family room and catch a glimpse of President Roosevelt's address at the World's Fair (_the first President to ever be on television_, Wally explained with gusto). It hadn't felt disconcerting or odd at all, much to his surprise, to sit on the floor and watch television with a boy whose face he could not see and whose name he did not know.

That was when he knew, he supposed. That was when he knew that he and Robin, the Boy Wonder, were going to be thick as thieves. Pals.

The Batman didn't know that, by 1940, Wally was acutely aware of Robin's secret identity, which was, apparently, not to be revealed to anyone under even the most extenuating of circumstances.

Dick Grayson. He had said it over and over to himself after he'd heard it, reminding himself that he knew it now, and it seemed such a grand little name – no lousy double-alliteration or… or _Wally West_.

Robin seemed to think it was absolutely great that their names both had the same syllabic counts, albeit with different emphases. _Dick GRAY-son. WA-lly West. _Wally himself never entirely understood the importance of this, but Robin's affinity for all things semantic was known enough to him that he didn't question it.

As the months (and, imperceptibly, years) passed, Kid Flash started making a name for himself, and Wally West grew less bitter about being unable to share that name. He and Robin grew closer, and the Boy Wonder spent frequent weekends at Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris's apartment, discussing with Wally ice hockey and basketball and, good grief, they're going to be showing things in _color_ now? It was nice to have a friend, just one. Wally couldn't help feeling lucky.

Another thing that he really liked about Dick Grayson was that he never questioned the fact that Wally never spent much time with his parents. Wally's parents were not his favourite subject to converse about. This was probably due to the fact that, when the Depression hit, they were forced to leave him in the care of his more financially sturdy aunt and uncle. It could also be explained by the fact that Wally, only six at the time, could hardly remember them (except, in the occasional dream, the sorrowful looks on their faces and the bewildered aching in his stomach as they waved good-bye to him and walked away down the rain-slicked street). He hadn't seen them since, which was something his Uncle Barry never bothered trying to explain or understand.

But Wally wasn't the kind of guy to be held down by angst and self-pity. He was obviously doing fine without his parents, and in retrospect, they had probably _tried_ to keep him, but he was just too big of an eater and too loud of a blabbermouth, even without his powers. They were probably much better off without him, and that didn't bother him at all, because if they were happy somewhere out there, he was happy.

He had heard smatterings of Robin's past, mostly from Robin himself. He didn't know anything entirely concrete, but he could tell by the harsh line his mouth seemed to take on at the mention of absent parents that they had similarly bruised hearts. He never pestered Robin for answers, because maybe he didn't have any, just like everyone else. Aqualad – Kaldur – shared this peculiar sadness with the two of them.

Aqualad had been an unusual addition to the dynamic duo that was Robin and Kid Flash. Kaldur'ahm had been a welcome one to Dick Grayson and Wally West. The Justice League that both Batman and the Flash were a part of had been the sort of unattainable legend that Wally had only dreamt of, a group of immense and wonderful beings who stood at the summit of humanity. They were idols and he was a peon. This was not the mentality that Uncle Barry encouraged him to have, but it didn't matter. That was why, when Aquaman had arrived to help the Flash and Kid Flash fend off a particularly nasty Abra Kadabra one evening and had brought along his cool-headed sidekick, Aqualad, Wally had been all over the place with reverence.

Aqualad, being one year Wally's senior and two year's Dick's, had immediately cemented himself as a surrogate older sibling, with his calm, fair logic and even-temperedness. Wally had thought he was the epitome of what every sidekick should be, and Robin admired his ability to be on the same level of mysteriousness as Batman. They only really occasionally saw the Atlantean, on the off chance that there was a villain that both they and their mentors combined couldn't handle, but when they did, it was a treat.

Wally felt inexplicably more professional when Kaldur was fighting beside him and Robin, like he was part of something larger than just being a sidekick, like he was part of a _Team_. The three of them were a _Team_ when they worked together, and they didn't need superiors.

Maybe that was what started it.

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><p><strong>Washington, D.C.<strong>

**February 6, 1941 – 2:06 PM EDT**

"Today is the day."

Despite the frequency with which he was reciting them, Kid Flash was certain that he would never get sick of those words. The Flash did not share his sentiments.

"Yeah, yeah, Kid. Today's the day," he said wearily as they dashed side-by-side in streaks of red and yellow toward the Hall of Justice. "And not that I'm not all for the new catch phrase, but you're starting to sound like a broken record."

"Sorry, sorry," Kid Flash replied, not sorry at all, heart thrumming ceaselessly in time with his footsteps. "I just…"

"I get it," the Flash assured him, sending him a sideways glance and a lopsided smile. Kid Flash grinned in response and started running a little faster.

The Hall of Justice burst forth over the horizon and the two of them skidded to a halt beside the rest of the gathering: Batman and Robin, Aquaman and Aqualad, Green Arrow and Speedy. Kid Flash and Speedy had only been acquainted for about a year, but in that amount of time, he had come to idolize the eighteen-year-old as an older brother, albeit a rather aloof and grumpy one, and if Kid Flash one day wound up being as indisputably cool as Speedy, well, he wouldn't complain.

"Aw, nuts," Kid Flash whined as the Flash gave him an appraising smirk. "Fastest humans alive and we're the last ones here."

"Your lack of punctuality has been established," Batman said gruffly, shooting a glare at the Flash, who shrugged sheepishly. "Now, then."

He turned to the four sidekicks, who stood at complete attention (though Kid Flash was a bit slow on the uptake, gawking at the building before them for a few good seconds before redirecting his focus).

Batman glowered at him, and he balked.

"This is a very important day for the four of you."

"Darn right it is!" Kid Flash interjected excitedly, and Robin elbowed him in the solar plexus.

"I'd like to welcome you all to the Hall of Justice," Batman continued unimpeded. "Follow me."

He turned fluidly and stalked toward the entrance, and the others followed him readily. Kid Flash sped up to walk in time with Robin, whispering out of the corner of his mouth.

"I have a hard time imagining Batman _liking_ anything."

"Use your imagination," Robin grumbled back.

"This is all rather overwhelming," Aqualad said from behind them, staring charily at the crowd of reporters loitering around the front doors.

"You're overwhelmed. Batman's always underwhelmed. What's the deal with all these prefixes? Why can't anyone ever just be whelmed?"

"Now's not the time to be beating the English language with a stick, Robin," Speedy snapped. "This is serious."

"Don't be such a flat tire, Speedy. Think about this for a second! Have all four of the League's best sidekicks ever been in the same place at once?" Kid Flash cried happily.

"We're not sidekicks," Speedy inserted with ferocity, and Kid Flash blinked, astounded at the hostility of his statement.

"Calm down. It's not a bad thing."

"It is," Speedy insisted bitterly. "And it's about to end."

As they approached the front steps, the reporters all started stampeding toward them, clamoring around in unrelenting droves, hats askew and pens at the ready. Kid Flash squinted sourly against the inexorable lightning storm of camera flashes, and Robin vanished completely, black cloak fluttering as he sneaked past the press and stood waiting by the front doors with a satisfied smirk.

"Batman! Batman! What made you decide to bring the kiddos to the Hall of Justice?"

"Say, fellas, it's Flash Boy! Flash Boy, how did you first become the Flash's sidekick? Freak accident? Stroke of fate?"

"It's _Kid Flash_." Kid Flash tried to shout over the din, but was drowned out by more questions. He could mentally hear Robin snickering at him.

"Aquaman! Isn't it a bit unorthodox to have a Negro for a sidekick?"

"Speedy! Speedy! Do you plan on going solo now that you're eighteen?"

"Don't look at them or answer them," Batman ordered. "Gentlemen, excuse us. We have more important things to attend to."

"Come on, Kid," the Flash chided him, grabbing him temporarily by the ear and yanking him into a stride. "Pick up the pace."

"But," Kid Flash whined, shooting a baleful glance over his shoulder at the put-out-looking reporters.

"They'll still be here in an hour. They're _always_ there, even before you've decided that _you're_ going to be there. Now come on and quit being a wise guy."

Kid Flash begrudgingly obeyed him, stalking up the entrance steps and stopping beside Robin before Batman pulled open the bronze entrance doors, moving aside to allow the others entrance. Speedy's unbounded eagerness burst forth as he practically shoved his way inside, eyes tight behind his domino mask, and Green Arrow shook his head in his wake.

"Somebody's excited," Kid Flash whispered aside to Robin.

"No kidding."

The boys turned to look to Aqualad as if for confirmation, but the Atlantean did not honor their stares with reception, instead gazing resolutely ahead as he walked in time with Aquaman.

Needless to say, the inside of the Hall of Justice was nothing short of majestic. Larger-than-life bronze statues of the League's finest members stretched toward the ceiling – the Martian Manhunter, Superman, Green Arrow, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Batman, Aquaman, all in a row (the Man of Steel being, of course, front and center, wholesome American superhero that he was). Robin's eyes visibly widened at the sight.

After making their way past the flocks of tourists, they reached a metal door with a combination knob on it, which Batman quickly fiddled with and opened.

The Martian Manhunter, tall and eerie but unusually tranquil, stepped forward, with the robot Red Tornado behind him. Kid Flash eyed Red Tornado warily, taking an involuntary step back. The idea of artificial beings still gave him goosebumps from time to time.

"Aqualad," the Martian Manhunter murmured, his voice deeper than any ocean. His eyes swiveled to each of the boys in turn. "Speedy. Robin. Kid Flash."

He seemed to examine them as though they were far-off stars before quirking a peculiar smile, nodding slowly with approval.

"Welcome."

As he turned to lead the way beyond the doors, Kid Flash shot a triumphant grin at Robin. It was reciprocated tenfold.

"You may now freely access the gymnasium, the kitchens, the infirmary, and the library," the Manhunter continued, leading the group into a wide room whose floor-to-ceiling shelves were filled with books. Kid Flash felt a wave of sudden boredom come over him, as was often the case whenever he stepped into a library, or any place that dared to house books of any kind. Robin, quite the opposite, seemed far too gleeful for it to be considered normal.

"This is amazing," Kid Flash marveled, and he meant it.

"It is quite an honor," Aqualad agreed, sending a meaningful look toward Aquaman and the other Leaguers. "We are all humbled by your trust."

Kid Flash turned grinning to Speedy as if for confirmation, but lost the expression at the sight of his friend's extremely dour face and folded arms.

"This is no honor," he thought he heard Speedy mutter. Batman seemed to have caught it as well, pivoting toward Green Arrow's sidekick with a warning look behind his cowl.

"What was that?" he demanded lowly. Speedy unfolded his arms and, in one fluid motion, snatched his hat off of his head and threw it to the ground, which it hit with a resounding _thwack_.

"This is no honor!" he shouted, and Kid Flash's mouth dropped open; Kaldur's brow deepened; Robin's eyes became protuberant at Speedy's audacity.

"Roy," Green Arrow whispered, but Speedy seemed not to hear him.

"This is a _joke_," Speedy snarled. His red hair suddenly seemed very befitting, wrathful and unrelenting. "This is nothing but a damn field trip. A special little look behind the scenes. What are we supposed to do with a _library_, huh? Or – or a goddamn _gymnasium_? We can find those in any city in the world. What was it you said about us taking the first step? About becoming members of the League in a couple of years? You're all _liars_."

He whirled to face the three other boys, whose faces all wore visages of utter shock.

"You boys are with me, right? Listen to this nonsense! They take _tourists_ through here, for Pete's sake! Is that all we are to them? People to show around? _Kids_? _Sidekicks_?"

The last word was spoken with such unbridled spite that it felt like a stinging slap to the cheek.

"Don't tell me you're going to let them do this. _Don't_." His expression softened, almost imperceptibly, as he regarded the other three with an unreadable air. "You're all better than this. _We're_ better than this."

"We…" Kid Flash started to croak out, but Aqualad took over for him.

"We are not ready," the Atlantean stated, pinning Speedy down with his steely gaze. "Not yet. That is for the League to decide."

"This is a big step, Speedy. The _first_ step. There are still a few more to go, if you hadn't noticed," Kid Flash offered, unable to keep the jocular sarcasm out of his voice.

"I'd _noticed_," Speedy spat viciously, and Kid Flash actually flinched.

"Speedy," Robin started to say, but the archer threw up a hand to silence him, his eyebrows smashed together in a fierce glare as he tightened his jaw and closed his eyes.

"Don't call me that." His eyes strayed to the sight of his discarded hat, and a flicker of sentimentality seemed to pass behind his mask.

Green Arrow stepped forward and made to put a hand on Speedy's shoulder, but found his arm being swatted away.

"And don't treat me like I'm… like I need to be _comforted_." He turned away from his mentor without another word and faced the other boys, looking resolute. "I'm not going to put up with this anymore. I know I'm capable, and you all are, too. Are you with me?"

Kid Flash glanced on either side of him – Robin to his left, Aqualad to his right – and took in their tenacious, almost disappointed frowns. He swallowed, looked Speedy in the eye, and shook his head.

"It's not our place," he heard himself say, and this seemed to disgust Speedy, because he bowed his head and marched, seething, past the three of them, forcing Kid Flash to step aside to let him pass.

"Wait—" Kid Flash started to say.

"No." Speedy cut him off before leaving the room. "Not anymore. I'm not like you. I'm not going to just roll over like I used to. This is my game now."

The metal doors then grinded to a close, and Speedy was gone.

The stifling silence that hung in the aftermath permeated the library for what seemed like hours, and Kid Flash – _Wally_ – felt a consuming sadness, a nuance of self-deprecation, encroach his insides, and he wanted nothing more than to run at super speed after Speedy and tell him that he was _in_; he was _ready_; he was—

His rampant thoughts were interrupted by an elbow from Robin driving into his side, and he let out a loud and undignified yelp, spinning around clumsily. Robin was frowning at him, but it was nothing compared to the stern looks he was being stabbed with courtesy of Batman and the Flash.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and the apology, the subordination, felt bitter in the back of his throat.

Batman glanced at Green Arrow, whose moustache was drooping forlornly, and gave him a slight nod. At this, Green Arrow's eyes seemed to soften with gratitude and he quickly exited the library, no doubt going after Speedy.

"Green Arrow will deal with Speedy," Batman said brusquely. "The important thing today is you, no matter how many of you are here."

"Yeah, real important," Kid Flash heard himself spit at full volume. "Speedy's right. This is pointless! Are you just trying to distract us? To entertain us? For the love of—"

"KF," Robin interrupted harshly, and Kid Flash froze. "Stop."

Kid Flash demurred, folding his arms and bowing his head. Batman's scrutinizing gaze swiveled over each of the boys, finally resting on Robin, who was meeting his eye with glittering verve.

The Dark Knight was silent, and seemed to be thinking very deeply about something. He, Aquaman, the Martian Manhunter, and the Flash were all exchanging sidelong glances, shaking heads, quirked shoulders. Kid Flash had heard from Robin about something that the League did called telepathic communication, courtesy of the Martian Manhunter. He involuntarily shivered. The idea of all of his thoughts being picked apart by another party was more than disconcerting.

He started to fidget, and didn't understand how Aqualad and Robin could be standing so still, seeming to be perched precariously on a ledge, waiting to be pushed in either one direction or the other. Kid Flash's foot began thumping impatiently before he even noticed what he was doing.

The sudden appearance of Aquaman's voice startled him into jumping.

"Boys." Aquaman spoke very frankly, his tone regal. "The time has come."

Kid Flash almost opened his mouth to question the Atlantean King further, but Batman interrupted him.

"You've all been making statements as of late about how you think that you're ready to start doing things by yourselves."

"You're not kids anymore," the Flash inserted helpfully.

"We've all agreed that if you feel that strongly about breaking away from your positions as sidekicks, it isn't our place to stop you."

"This is a time of change," the Martian Manhunter continued evenly, almost in a murmur. "Childhood disintegrates more quickly."

"You have all shown yourselves to be moderately capable when operating separately from your mentors," Batman said. He gave a particularly pointed look to Robin, who beamed.

"The League is rife with well-known faces and great presences," Aquaman explained. "It is difficult for us to engage in covert operations."

"What we're trying to say is," the Flash interrupted, stepping forward and putting his arms out in a congratulatory fashion, "You boys are moving up in the ranks. We want you to start your own team."

"One overseen by the League, of course," Batman appended firmly. "A subsidiary. You would follow our orders at all times, and the missions you would accept would be ones offered only by us. You would not do any solo work. You would not stray from League protocol or objectives. And you would _absolutely_ not go off and try anything on your own without first receiving approval from at least three League members."

"This is just an idea, of course, kids," the Flash said hastily. "You shouldn't feel any pressure."

"No," the Martian Manhunter agreed. "This is your decision entirely."

"If you need time to consider it," Batman said, "we can give you—"

Robin abruptly threw up a hand, halting Batman's speech. He was staring pensively at the floor, his expression unreadable.

"Time? _Time_?" He lifted his head, and now there was a sharp grin on it, somewhere between wicked and humbled. "We've been ready for this since we were born."

He turned to the others and beamed. Kid Flash immediately thought of that word: _Team_.

He nodded, face splitting into an inexorable smile.

"And how!" he exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest, causing the red lightning bolt to gleam like a flag on high. He could have sworn he saw the Flash roll his eyes.

Aqualad did not blink as he faced the League members before them, paying particular attention to Aquaman, whose expression was just as solemn.

"You do not jest with us, my King?" he murmured, and Aquaman shook his head, smiling warmly.

"I would not dream of such a thing."

Kid Flash couldn't contain the grin that was causing his cheeks to tighten and ache as he high-fived Robin and regarded the League with unbridled ardor.

They were a Team. Just like that. A Trio. A Troupe. A Squad, a Gang, a Band of Brothers. The idea darted rampantly through his head, irrepressible and exuberant.

"But I thought," he started to say breathlessly, and he didn't know _what_ he thought, exactly, but it was something different than the information he'd just been given, and he didn't quite understand how to respond to anomalies like it. Flash seemed to take note of his disbelief and walked over to pat his shoulder.

"You thought wrong, Kid."

"As usual," Robin quipped.

"We will do our utmost to be worthy of this honor," Aqualad vowed, bowing his head minutely to Batman and Aquaman in turn. "We will not disappoint you."

"I trust you won't," Batman replied, narrowing his eyes, and Kid Flash knows just as well as the others that it isn't a presumption, but a veiled order.

"There is something we must admit, however," the Martian Manhunter added, stepping forward with his arms behind his back. "This decision was not made entirely arbitrarily."

"Ah," the Flash said, as though he had just remembered something unfortunate. Kid Flash frowned at him quizzically.

"Right," Batman continued, voice curt. "This Team will serve a purpose starting right now."

"A mission?" Robin asked excitedly, but Batman shook his head.

"No," he responded. "An addition."

Before any of the sidekicks – _no, they were not sidekicks anymore_ – could interrogate him further, he cleared his throat and crossed his arms.

"There is a facility," he began, "located in Metropolis. It houses a scientific corporation specializing in genetic research."

"In what?" Robin asked, dumbfounded, and Kid Flash filled in the gap without pause.

"It's not surprising you haven't heard about it, Rob. Genetic research isn't a very big field. You've probably heard of Barbara McClintock, though, right? Chromosomes?"

Robin blinked, contemplating this, before nodding hesitantly.

"Yeah."

"Well," Kid Flash explained feverishly, gesticulating with gusto, "lately scientists have been looking at alleles and genotypes and trying to figure out how they define physical traits, and if research keeps up, we might be able to find ways to cure diseases that are passed down genetically, and—"

"This corporation goes by the name of Project Cadmus," Batman interrupted warningly, and Wally eschewed immediately, straightening. "We raided their headquarters three days ago after being drawn there by a seemingly innocuous fire."

"It uncovered much," the Martian Manhunter muttered.

"The workers all escaped – the head scientist, the director, all of them. We managed to salvage something after defeating the… security force that they left behind."

"Some_thing_?" the Flash interjected, frowning at Batman. The Dark Knight's mouth thinned.

"Some_one_."

Kid Flash's brain was flipping over and over in his head as though it could turn up something mildly useful in the wake of all of this indiscernible prattling. Robin seemed to be using the same tactic, and Aqualad, naturally, looked exactly the same as he always did: passive.

None of them even had the energy to conjure up a question before a large metal door behind Batman slid open with a resounding buzz, and, hardly surprised by the harsh sound, Batman moved aside.

From the gap created by the open door, a boy emerged.

Kid Flash's mouth could have hit the ground and bounced back up and he wouldn't have been the wiser. Robin's white, masked eyes were protuberant. Kaldur stepped backwards as if in disbelief.

"Team," Batman intoned. "Meet Project Kr."

Kid Flash was honestly surprised to hear the name "Project Kr" in the place of the one that had instantly popped into his head at the sight of the boy opposite them: _Superman_.

"Hello," the boy said, but his face betrayed no inkling of anything close to happiness.

Kid Flash couldn't help gawking. The boy was tall, well over six feet (taller than Aqualad, even), and bulging arrangements of muscles rippled under his plain white tee-shirt. His crisp-looking jeans (unorthodox though they may have been) did nothing to conceal the raw power pulsing throughout his body, and his two large feet were held by black high-top basketball shoes. His hands, laced with prominent veins, were clenched into fists at his sides, as though he had a permanent fear that he would need to hit something at any time. His short black hair was scruffy, and the uncanny pale blueness of his eyes contrasted it abnormally. His expression was frustrated, confused, angry.

Kid Flash gulped. He looked in turn at Aqualad and Robin, who showed no signs of speaking anytime soon, and decided to be the first to break the ice.

"Hi," he said, stepping forward and extending his hand to the boy. "I'm Kid Flash."

The boy's ignited eyes jerked down to the gloved red hand offered to him, and his jaw went rigid as he clenched it. He stepped back and said nothing, keeping his head low as he focused on a point directly between Kid Flash's feet.

"It's nice to meet you," the redhead tried again, keeping all terseness out of his voice. He pointed behind him. "That's Robin. That's Aqualad."

Robin waved and Aqualad nodded. Project Kr gave them respective dirty, skeptical looks.

"Mmm," he said, shifting back and forth on his feet as he averted eye contact once again.

Batman seemed to assess Project Kr's blatant trepidations before apparently making the decision to ignore them entirely.

"Project Kr is a clone of Superman," he told them without pause, and that lack of a pause part confused Kid Flash, because there was no conceivable chance that the Dark Knight was telling the truth.

"That's impossible," he stated frankly, and Batman's eyes squinted darkly. At this offended reaction, Kid Flash threw his hands in the air in bewilderment. "It's _impossible_. It hasn't even been _done_! We don't even understand all the secrets of DNA yet!"

"Project Cadmus did," Batman interrupted. "And they put it to use."

"The result is Project Kr," the Flash explained, pulling at his fingers and making the bones pop.

"Don't call me that," the boy growled very suddenly, very insistently. He finally looked up and met eyes immediately with Batman. "I am not a weapon."

"I never said you were," Batman riposted smoothly, and the boy bristled.

"I want a name," he said. "A real one." He pointed to Robin. "Like his."

"A superhero name?" Kid Flash asked, and grinned. "Those are a breeze."

"A name," the boy reiterated fiercely, as if to prove a point. Kid Flash blinked.

"Well, uh…"

"How about Superboy?" Robin suggested with a weak, hesitant smile. "After—"

"No," the boy started to snarl, but Batman spoke over him with, "That sounds acceptable."

"It's better than 'Project Kr,' right?" Kid Flash suggested helpfully, and Superboy looked him directly in the eye, and it felt like an icepick being driven up into his brain.

"Anything's better than that," Superboy said, and then he turned away from them, not sparing them the slightest glances for the remainder of Batman's lengthy expounding of his origins: how he had been fed knowledge of the Real World by creatures called Genomorphs, created by Cadmus; how Superman still did not know that there was a clone of him; how they – the Team – were instructed to accept the Superboy into their ranks, to assimilate him to the world, to help teach him how to use his abilities.

To anyone else, it may have seemed like a descending blitz of impending responsibility, of things not done by the likes of the young, of duties and explanations and commands. But Kid Flash did not dread a syllable of it, nor did he resent one.

He was Ready, after all. They were all – all four of them – _Ready_.

* * *

><p>"You're okay, Supey," Kid Flash said to Superboy as they all exited the Hall of Justice that night, breathing in the cold scent of the starlight. "You're really okay."<p>

Superboy made no response, nor any indication that he had heard Kid Flash speak, but that didn't stop the speedster.

"Can you believe this, fellas? Can you believe that we're… that the League _let_ us… that next week we're going to be moving into Mount Justice, that we…"

"Something big," Robin murmured imperceptibly, but Kid Flash heard him and nodded, reaching over and clapping Superboy on the back. The boy flinched and glowered at him.

"Yeah," Kid Flash said, distantly, wistfully, as he turned his head up to stare at Orion, glittering beguilingly over his head. "Something big."


	3. Chapter Two: Welcome to Happy Harbor

**A million apologies for the fact that this one took so long, all! I've been really preoccupied with school, gearing up for Thanksgiving (which is over; oh, God – turkey stock, delicious turkey stock), and working on other fics that stole my inspiration, namely _A__ Shine__ on __the __Floor_ and _Hengilas_.**

**Aside from which, it takes such a long time for me to figure out how to recap the first few episodes without being tedious, while still attempting to keep my grasp on some semblance of originality. I think I did a decent job, but still, this was a tough chapter! Even M'gann, who is usually my absolute favourite character to write, gave me a hard time in this one. I'm still not completely satisfied with the way I constructed all of this, but… I hope that it still captures the spirit of the show and doesn't seem rushed! **

**Also, I'm using Czech as a stand-in for Martian. Uh. Don't question my logic?  
><strong>

**Enjoy, everyone! See you next time!**

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to or affiliation with any character/characters associated with _Young__ Justice_. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two:<strong>

_**Welcome to Happy Harbor**_

* * *

><p>"If we win here we will win everywhere. The world is a fine place and worth the fighting for."<p>

— Ernest Hemingway, _For__ Whom __the __Bell __Tolls_ (1940)

* * *

><p>Earth was very different from Mars.<p>

It was wide and burbling but it was, at the same time, a vast and empty place. It left an omnipresent, hollow echoing in the corners of her skull as she forced herself not to breathe in the thoughts of its inhabitants (they would be so crisp and tranquil and she would want to gather them in her hands like rain).

She did not initially notice exactly how much she had to change herself in order to become a part of the planet she so adored. Uncle J'onn murmured to her that she could not show the green of her skin and that she could not share her mind with anyone. It was such a sickeningly lonely little thought, one that wept in the darkness and left her mind barren and stale.

M'gann M'orzz, sky-halting golden child of the red planet, missed being able to awaken to the humming presence of all of Mars in her temples. She missed the openness, the intimacy, the omnipresent company that swam warmly into her fingertips. When she had stowed away with Uncle J'onn and been drawn away from the burning and chaotic surface of her home, she had sobbed as the thoughts of her people were severed violently from hers, and the silence had made her want to curl in on herself and dissolve into space.

As much as she had insatiably yearned to live on Earth for so many years, she sat out on the Watchtower some nights when Uncle J'onn had monitor duty and flung her mind to Mars.

Uncle J'onn had told her on her fifth day on Earth that she must keep herself disguised at all times. She did not have the same luxury of showing her true self that he did, that he had worked so long to earn.

"These Earth people fear what they have never encountered," he told her sadly. "I regret it, M'gann, my dear one, but you must make yourself appear human. It will help them to more easily accept you."

"May I tell the Team?" M'gann implored. "May I at least allow my skin to be green?"

J'onn had fixed her with a regretful stare and answered, "No."

M'gann had worked on her white – her _Caucasian_ form for days, and, when at last she settled on one, continually practiced shifting between her two appearances.

She was proud of the girl she had created to represent herself. She was petite and fair with lightly freckled cheeks (M'gann loved freckles) and soft little breasts. She had grown herself straight auburn hair that twisted fluidly over her shoulders, and had given herself soda pop brown eyes with a delicate honeycomb of red veins.

Veins were strange things. They raced and throbbed and burned beautifully through her limbs. The toes she had made were odd, too; they tickled her heels and squirmed of their own accord.

Her skin, by far, took the longest to grow accustomed to. It was white and pink and dusted in tiny umber spots, and her lips were a tender red, and her knees were shiny and warm, like her strangely subtle collarbone.

She formed clothing for herself, too. A goldenrod dress with a white collar and puffed sleeves and a wigwam skirt that reached her shins. A pale cream-and-beige cloche with tiny feathers in the satin band. Warm white socks and, best of all, saddle shoes.

Oh, M'gann had always adored saddle shoes. Uncle J'onn had told her and her sisters about them through a mind link following one of his trips to Earth, and for days afterwards, she had floated happily around with a self-made pair that looked almost comical on her green feet.

She would spare glances at her human self in the mirror on cold autumn mornings and think that perhaps she would belong here, in a way that she had never belonged on Mars. She would sit with her knees at her chin, ears dutifully directed toward the radio Uncle J'onn had purchased, listening to _The __Adventures __of __the __Thin __Man_ and _The__ Breakfast __Club __Variety __Show_, and she would want to understand everything about which the voices were speaking. The golden glow of the station knob would gather in the crevices of her face and warm them.

The day that Uncle J'onn had told her it was time to meet the Team, she had shifted her shoes to be especially shiny. Her mind drummed with joy, giddy and fluttering. It, it and she, they would not be lonely anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>Mount Justice<strong>

**February 11, 1941 — 10:36 AM EDT  
><strong>

"Jeez, I love this job already."

Wally reclined back on the green couch with his feet crossed on the arm of it, hands behind his head. Robin shot a smirk at him before sending appraising glances to the décor of their new base, the revamped Mount Justice.

"I thought this place had gone to the dogs," Robin confessed with genuine surprise, turning to Batman with a quirked eyebrow. "Wasn't its location compromised a few years back? I thought it was abandoned after that."

"It was," Batman replied in a clipped voice, crossing his arms. "No one's been here for quite a while, and the League of Shadows is still aware of its position."

Wally choked on something that Robin could only presume was his own spit, given the circumstances, and shot the Batman an incredulous frown.

"Uh, Bats, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but… that's a bit of a _big__ problem_."

Batman's eyes narrowed at the speedster, who shrank back.

"But, uh, then again, you're the Batman, so, all ideas are aces!" he appended hastily, laughing nervously. Batman huffed.

"This strategy is often referred to as 'hiding in plain sight,'" he grunted gruffly, with the slowness required for explaining something to a five-year-old. "You'll need to learn how to do that yourselves."

"Right," Wally muttered, flopping back onto the cushions again with a pout.

"How's Superboy holding up?" Batman asked, turning to Robin for a response. "Has he been… interacting with you?"

The Boy Wonder shrugged.

"I don't know; kind of." He put his hands in the pockets of his slacks, and the copper buttons on his navy sweater gleamed with the motion, making his white shirt look stark and crisp. "He keeps to himself most of the time. I think he's mostly mulling over all of that baloney the G-Gnomes stuffed into his brain."

"I love what he's done with the place," Wally commented dryly, gesturing to the area with a flourish.

Apparently – and Uncle Barry had only told him this quite recently, in the three days it had been since their admittance into the Hall of Justice – Batman had been funding renovations of the Cave (the interior of the mountain) for quite some time. Superboy, though now officially a permanent resident, had spent the past four days with Wally at his aunt and uncle's apartment, fixing all things living and inanimate with his omnipresent testy glower of frustration. Wally had needed to physically restrain him when the sound of a gunshot on the radio startled him into a defensive, flailing rage.

He was proud to say that, out of all of them, he probably knew Superboy best so far, if "practically a stranger" could be considered equal to "close acquaintance." The boy rarely spoke to anyone, and had certainly been silent for the most part during his stay with the Wests, but Wally distinctly remembered with great satisfaction the Saturday night that he had gotten Superboy to engage in a conversation about movies that had lasted longer than two minutes – over an hour, to be exact! But then, Wally had always had extraordinary social skills; he was just such a swell guy…

The inside of the Cave was, for the most part, brown and bare, though the recently added wood-burning fireplace certainly made the place seem a bit more homey. Batman had supplied them with a very nice projector set for any films they chose, along with a brand-new Zenith radio, the decadence of which nearly floored everyone but Robin. The boys all wrestled over what to play every night in front of the fire – dramatic shows, swing music, or Superboy's favourite, the crooner station. Wally swore that if he heard "Donkey Serenade" being unsubtly hummed by the guy one more time, he would defenestrate himself with no regrets. Then again, even he could admit that crooners were preferable to the station that filled the room with constant static, which Superboy seemed to love even more.

Batman had also furnished the entire Cave with a yawning gray gymnasium with an ever-blue swimming pool, six bathrooms, an entertainment room connected to an all-marble kitchen, seven bedrooms (Wally didn't understand why they needed an extra three; there were only four of them on this little team, for Pete's sake), a library, a recreation room, and various other arbitrary "essentials" that Wally still hadn't stumbled upon.

He didn't comprehend the necessity of all of the bedrooms, because he, Robin, and Kaldur all had homes elsewhere and would likely not spend any nights in the Cave unless it was a mandatory Keep Supey Company Night.

Come to think of it, he hadn't seen the grumpy meathead all day. He and Robin had arrived at the Cave for their "welcome tour" (which had essentially consisted of Batman saying, "the bathrooms are that way") about two hours ago, but neither hide nor hair of Superboy had been brought into the light since their entrance. To be honest, the only other face they'd seen besides Batman's scowling one had been Red Tornado's, their newly designated "den mother," or, as Robin so eloquently called it, their "babysitter."

His introspection dwindled enough for him to apathetically take note of the fact that Batman and Robin were muttering in a corner. He sighed.

"How long can it possibly take for a guy to take a swim?" he asked out of nowhere, spontaneously noticing that it had been nearly an hour since Kaldur had dashed off to test the waters of the pool.

"For an Atlantean to take a swim?" Robin snickered. "A _while_."

"Just be patient," Batman told them both firmly before turning to exit the room. "I'll be back in a moment; I need to radio the Martian Manhunter."

He turned his head infinitesimally toward Wally and squinted.

"You break anything," he whispered, "you pay for it."

"Yes, sir," Wally drawled, not listening at all. With a light flutter of his cape, Batman had vanished.

Robin plopped down next to Wally on the couch, resting his feet on the coffee table. Wally snorted.

"I thought the Batdaddy taught you better manners," he chided jocularly. Robin grimaced and removed his feet from the surface of the table.

After a moment's pause, Wally said simply, "I really like this gig."

"I heard you the first six times, Wally."

"The only thing that would make this all better is – is _girls_." Wally threw his arms out in wistful vision, a dreamy expression on his face. "_Tubs_ full of girls."

"You're probably the reason they're steering clear in the first place," Robin cracked, snorting. Wally deflated.

"Regardless of your lack of human kindness, this is going to be _great_," he said plainly, beaming up at the ceiling. "Imagine all of the great stuff we'll be doing! Undercover – espionage – spy stuff!"

Robin snorted again.

"Well, not _quite_, Kid," he told the speedster gently. "I don't know if you understand exactly how _dull_ recon can get."

"Nothing involving me will ever be dull!"

"Oh, of course," Robin replied flatly. "How could I forget. What a fool I am."

"You're a smart man, Boy Wonder."

They both lulled into silence, eyes wandering distractedly. Wally ran his thumb along the band of the brand-new high-speed goggles that Uncle Barry had given him the day of their visit to the Hall of Justice, wondering offhandedly when he would use them. The sound of a flat "Hi" being dropped from behind them caused both of them to jump.

Wally turned, blinking, to see Superboy standing awkwardly behind the couch, backed by the shining kitchen. His mouth was thin.

"Oh, hi, Supey!" Robin grinned. "You getting bored? Us, too."

"Been thinking," Superboy grunted, staring at his bare feet. "Head hurts."

"Better stay out of here, then." Robin snickered. "Wally's just going to make it worse."

"Hey!" Wally protested.

"Oh," Superboy said with a peculiarly hurt frown. "Okay. Sorry."

He turned to leave, head hanging comically. Robin, looking astounded, bounded off the chair and dashed forward, grabbing Superboy by the elbow to halt him.

"Hey!" he cried, and Superboy turned toward him, looking perplexed. "Hey, Supey, it was – that was a _joke_. You don't actually have to leave; I mean, you're welcome to stay. Jeez."

Superboy's eyes infinitesimally grew rounder with surprise before he shrugged Robin's hand off, an expression of confusion wriggling across his face.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Jokes still aren't… my forte."

"Well, with Kid around, that problem won't last long," Robin reassured him with a helpful smile before jerking his head in the direction of the couches. "Come on over here; sit down."

Wally may have been overanalyzing things, but he could have sworn that he saw the briefest of smiles twitch up on Superboy's features. When the barrel-chested boy gingerly set himself down on the armchair across from the couch on which Robin and Wally were lounging, the expression reappeared.

"Do you like this place?" he asked. "I do. I'll like living here."

Wally blinked.

"I thought you'd be… you know, taking up residence with Superman."

The expression of happiness immediately faltered.

"W-Would I?" he asked, befuddled. He quickly began to look a little bit terrified. "But I haven't even met him! Do I have to live with him?"

"No, no, I mean—!" Wally explained hastily, waving his hands. "If you don't… _want_ to, then…"

"You haven't met Superman yet?" Robin exclaimed, incredulous.

Superboy's brow furrowed and he shrank back a bit, looking almost ashamed.

"Is that bad?" he asked meekly. "Should I have b-by now?" He paused, thinking. "I mean, when I meet Superman, will I go live with him?"

"I'd assume so," Wally answered with an apathetic shrug. He didn't catch the incredulously exasperated look that Robin flung his way.

"_Possibly_," Robin appended firmly. "You can't quite know with the Man of Steel."

"Oh." Superboy nodded, eyebrows deep with pensiveness, and his gaze drifted distractedly away. The silence caused by his introspection and Wally's sidetracked sighs was almost palpable enough that Robin thought he could physically kick it when, mercifully, Kaldur came strolling in from the hallway to the gymnasium.

"Hello," the Atlantean greeted his teammates with a polite nod. His clammy skin glimmered with moisture. "The swimming pool is beyond satisfactory. I thought I should tell you."

"I can't swim," Wally mumbled offhandedly. "But that's good that you enjoyed it."

"Where is the Batman?" Kaldur inquired, setting himself gingerly down on the tabletop beside the radio. "He did not say he planned to leave until much later…"

"We don't know," Robin replied at the same time Wally said, "Off doing Bat-things."

"Ah," Kaldur muttered. "Then I suppose it is best to wait."

"Yeah…" the boys all agreed with heavy sighs of boredom.

Wally's feet were extraordinarily content on the armrest of the couch, he noticed with indifference. He scratched at the collar of his button-up shirt, wincing as his fingernail skirted across a mosquito bite by accident. Happy Harbor was a Happy Home for insects of the blood-sucking variety, much to his dismay, but thankfully, Batman seemed to have done something to the security systems to block out any of the irksome parasites.

He was startled by the sound of footsteps behind him, and, evidently, everyone else was as well. All heads whirled in the direction of the entryway to the main room, through which Batman, Red Tornado, and the Martian Manhunter were hesitantly entering.

"About time, Bats!" Wally squawked, sending his typical askance look at the android. "I was starting to think I'd be bored to death."

"I will not permit unexpected deaths on the job," Batman retorted with a completely straight face. "Now that you're all assembled, it's time you met your fifth team member."

"Fifth?" Robin repeated with wide eyes; Wally followed suit, albeit more obtrusively.

"My niece," the Martian Manhunter cut in, stepping fluidly aside to reveal a shy-looking red-haired girl with warm skin crouching behind him, one hand still fisted in his blue cape. "It is all right, M'gann. Go on; go forth and meet them. It is polite."

Wally's heart could have stopped at the sight of her and he would not have minded or noticed. The girl was unusually pretty, with hair that glimmered in the light and bubbly brown eyes that carbonated his chest. The freckles sprinkled over her nose were subtle and soft, and her long eyelashes curled naturally forward.

"Well, hel_lo_ there, pigeon," he exclaimed smoothly, stepping forward and extending his hand with a bow and a flourish. "May I start our acquaintance by saying that you're an angel, or would that be a bit much?"

"Oh," she whispered as he winked at her. "Oh, um, that is – very sweet of you!" A smile blew across her face, and the freckles scattered around it, her cheeks practically glowing. Wally's knees quavered. "That is very sweet of you in-_deed_. I am – my name is Miss Martian."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss M," Robin said, making his way forward with a polite grin, shaking her hand. "Call me Robin."

"That's Aqualad," Wally butted in, gesturing in the vague direction of Kaldur and Superboy. "And, uh, him. Don't worry about committing their names to memory, sweet cheeks, all you'll need to remember is _Wally __West_. See? My secret identity is safe in your capable little hands."

"Is that _your_ name?" she asked excitedly, clasping her hands together with reverence. "That is a wonderful name! _Wally_ West. I believe it is called alliteration here. I have it as well! If we are friendly, you may call me M'gann M'orzz, or simply M'gann."

"She's quite the chatterbox, isn't she?" Robin whispered aside to Wally, who ignored him completely.

"My true name is Kaldur'ahm, and you may call me such when we are off-duty," Aqualad told her kindly. "In fact, please call me Kaldur. It is the name my friends refer to me by."

"Boy Wonder over there can't tell you his, sadly," Wally babbled to her, causing Robin to pinch a glower.

"No, he _can__'__t_," Batman interjected, narrowing his eyes at Wally. The boy shrank back and sent a helpless grimace M'gann's way.

M'gann was no longer looking at the speedster, however. Her eyes had been ensnared by the brooding boy by the radio set whose icy eyes glittered thunderously against the backdrop of beige.

"I did not hear your name," she called to him cautiously, causing him to jump. "Oh, oh, did I startle you? _Omlouvám,__ omlouvám; __ahoj, __M__'__gann!_" She slapped a hand to her forehead fretfully.

"It's," Superboy ground out, staring at her with intense concentration that frankly made Wally quite worried. "It's Superboy."

"You feel alone," Miss Martian stated very suddenly, very sadly. Superboy's hands clenched. "_Jako__ ja_, Superboy – _jsem __sám, __taky_."

"What's she saying?" Wally hissed to Robin. The boy shrugged and did not answer.

"I don't feel alone," Superboy insisted ferociously, causing the pale girl to relent. "What gave you that idea?"

_I__ read __your __mind_. The voice – the voice of M'gann – was sharp and invasive in Wally's temples, and he cried out, putting a hand on his forehead. The others all followed suit, groaning. _It __is__ – __all__ minds __are __open __on __Mars! __We __communicate __telepathically; __we__—_

"Miss Martian, stop!" Aqualad commanded, his tone booming and firm. M'gann's mind froze, startled.

Superboy was seething at her, clutching the arms of the chair so hard that they were beginning to dent.

"Don't _ever_ do that again!" he yelled in a high-pitched fury.

"Mind-reading is not customary here, M'gann," her uncle murmured in her ear. She swallowed. "It is considered to be an annexation of privacy."

"Oh—" M'gann choked out, whirling on the boys with shame imminent in her limbs. "Oh, I am sorry; I did not mean…"

"Do not distress yourself, Miss Martian," Kaldur interjected. His stern leadership was gone, replaced by one of benevolence that reminded M'gann of Uncle J'onn. He stepped forward, giving her a tranquil smile, and shook her hand delicately. "I of all people understand the difficulty that it can take to adapt to this world's customs."

"Oh – yes! Uncle J'onn told me about you!" Miss Martian exclaimed, grasping his hand passionately, beaming. "You are from Atlantis?"

"I am," Kaldur confirmed good-naturedly.

"Uncle J'onn told me about _all_ of you," M'gann said excitedly, gesturing to each of them in turn. "You are Robin, the Boy Wonder; and you are Kid Flash, the Fastest Boy Alive; and you…"

Her eyes rested on Superboy, who skewered his gaze directly into hers without blinking. Her voice and features softened.

"He did not tell me about you."

After a moment's tense pause, Superboy tore his eyes from her hatefully.

"Consider yourself lucky," he said harshly. The Martian girl visibly cringed at the cruelty in his tone, at the tangible bitterness, but he paid her no mind.

Wally shot an unnoticed glower Superboy's way before putting his hand comfortingly on her shoulder, flashing her a smile.

"Don't mind him, dollface," he reassured her. "He's a stick in the mud. Nay, a whole tree!"

Superboy's forehead tightened, but he said nothing. M'gann, however, could feel the battlements he was erecting in his consciousness shoving against her.

"Oh, thank you, Kid Flash," M'gann murmured with a wan grin, still glancing forlornly at Superboy. She inhaled and her mood seemed to brighten, as she clasped Wally's hand in her own with excitement. "I am incredibly honored to be included in this team! It is very kind of you to allow me in."

A wild string of admittedly unsavory comments dashed through Wally's mind with cackling mischievousness, but he managed to keep his mouth firmly closed.

"Well, we, uh…" Robin started to say.

"It is very kind of you to join us," Kaldur told her truthfully with a nod. She flushed, and for the briefest of seconds, Wally could have sworn that her cheeks turned a fleeting shade of green.

"So, what are your powers?" Wally asked, cutting straight to the chase. "Since you already seem to know all of ours."

M'gann's face lifted gleefully.

"Oh, I have many! I can fly, and I am a telepath, as well as telekinetic – and I may change my form; I am a… shape-shifter! Yes! And I am strong for my age, stronger than the average human – we Martians are physiologically different, you see, and also I may camouflage myself, but only quite basically. I cannot density shift like my Uncle J'onn yet, for I am too inexperienced, but – I am adept at many other things!"

"A telepath, huh?" Wally muttered thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "Okay, what am I thinking right now?"

She giggled demurely behind one hand, and Wally smiled goofily.

"You are thinking of a hot dog," she answered, amused. "A large and juicy one, with ketchup and mustard!"

"Oh, _sweet-cheeks_," Wally moaned, clutching at his stomach. "How you tempt me!"

M'gann was still laughing as the Martian Manhunter tapped her shoulder, looking pleased by the interactions in front of him.

"_Vezměte __je __na __molu __s ní_," he murmured in her ear, and she let out a cry of happiness, clapping her hands.

"Yes, yes, Uncle J'onn! That is a wonderful idea!" She turned to the boys, who were all staring at her with befuddlement. "Uncle J'onn suggests I take you all down to the pier on my _sestra_– my bioship – to retrieve hot dogs!"

Wally smiled so widely that his face almost broke, rubbing his palms together insatiably.

"Cupcake, you are going to fit _right_ in around these parts," he told her with a wink as she led them all in a shuffling parade to the hangar. The sounds of their enthusiastic chattering faded, and the Martian Manhunter gave Batman a smile and a shake of the head.

"She seems to be doing very well," Batman commented flatly.

The Martian Manhunter inclined his head.

"Yes," he replied enigmatically. "She certainly does."

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Harbor<strong>

**February 11, 1941 — 1:24 PM EDT  
><strong>

M'gann's shame felt as if it would claw up and devour her as she sat in the pilot seat of the bioship, tears flowing frigid and clammy down her cheeks. Happy Harbor raced in colorless blurs past the windows, and the ship pulsed with her tumultuous heartbeat, only making the lacerating guilt in her stomach more painful.

"M-Miss Martian to Red Tornado!" she managed to croak out through her tears. A flickering holographic screen appeared before her with the polished android dead-center.

"What has occurred, Miss Martian?" he asked in a clipped manner. She sniffled, attempting to gather her composure, to keep herself speaking in English.

"W-We…" she sobbed before inhaling to steady herself. Her head dropped in humiliation. "We had just gone out to get the hot dogs, the hot dogs at the pier! And, and then we saw a—oh, what is the word! A ruckus! We saw a ruckus at the power plant, and we… we went in to investigate, because that is what teams do, isn't it? They investigate! They fix things and solve problems and do good things, and that was all we wanted to do! But there was a robot there, a robot who called himself Mister Twister, and he hurt us! He hurt _them_—" Her voice broke as the harsh memory of Kid Flash and Robin and Aqualad and Superboy crying out when the lightning had hit them sliced through her mind like a scalpel.

"Has anyone on the team been injured?" Red Tornado demanded matter-of-factly.

"N-No!" M'gann answered hastily. "No, no, they are all… they are all still in good health, and good spirits; they went after the robot—"

"Continue your story from where you left off, please."

"O-Oh." M'gann attempted to still her mind as it rattled and shook. "Well, we – we all attempted to triumph over him, but he had fearsome powers over the winds, much like you. That is part of the reason that I…"

"Yes?"

"That I," she attempted again, tongue stumbling. "That I thought… he may have been you. That you may have been testing us. My Uncle J'onn told me before I came to the mountain that you would administer a test to us soon, so that we could prove our worth—but, but, this robot, he also was immune to my telepathy, much like you are! And I thought—but I was wrong. In their distraction, the team suffered – because of me! They are so angry with me. They told me to hit the showers, and what does this mean? Why would I hit a shower? What has the shower done wrong? I cannot just leave them behind, because they are – they are my _tým_; you must understand! You must help them, in the way that I could not!"

"Calm your mind, Miss Martian," the android told her frankly, and she supposed that the cold patter of his voice, like pins falling, contained a semblance of comfort. "You know that it is not my place to step in."

"Superboy's rage tore into my heart," she wept out unabashedly, curling forward in shame. "And Kid Flash's disappointment was so heavy, and – and Robin's brevity was so cold, and Aqualad said…"

"Miss Martian," Red Tornado said, quieting her. She looked forlornly up at the screen, still hiccuping with sobs. "You are a beginner. You are all beginners. Do not blame yourself for the fact that the others forget this. You are permitted to make mistakes, and they must learn the art of simple forgiveness."

"Do I not belong, Red Tornado?" she whispered, eyes dry and ragged. "I want so badly to belong; I—"

"You will," Red Tornado assured her frankly, with no inflection. The words, despite their flatness of delivery, carried M'gann's heart into dutiful flight once more.

This return of joy and of confidence caused her mind to blossom out, and a thought struck her from the flood. She straightened and smiled.

"_Ahoj, __M__'__gann_!" she exclaimed, popping a palm against her forehead. "I have a plan. I will help them."

"Good." Red Tornado understood. "Radio the Cave if you require any assistance."

"With any luck," M'gann replied, eyes glittering, "we will not."

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Harbor<strong>

**February 11, 1941 — 5:06 PM EDT  
><strong>

"You were _amazing_!"

M'gann's heart was a balloon and it was swelling up, up, high into her brain, giddy and light. Kid Flash was at her side, gesticulating enthusiastically, reciting praises of the highest eloquence.

"That was so—_whoosh_! Bam! Pow!" He punched at nothing, his cheek swollen and his lip bleeding but his spirits indubitably rampant. "Oh, _jeez_, Miss M, you're a firecracker! That was incredible!"

"We owe you many thanks, Miss Martian," Aqualad said kindly. "We ought to have put more of our faith in you."

"Yeah. After all, if Batman let you on the team, you can't be all bad," Robin inserted with a glinting grin. "You really saved our behinds."

"It was nothing," she told them earnestly. "You all did well, too! Thank you," she added softly, paying a particularly lingering glance of gratitude to Superboy, "for allowing me into your minds to alert you of my plan."

"It was admittedly useful," Aqualad murmured. "Perhaps you should link our minds permanently, so that we may better communicate on missions…"

"That's a worry for another day, Kal," Robin interjected with a wink.

"And anyway, even without the mind link, we still knew it was you," Kid Flash added heartily. "Well, _I_ did. But that was mostly thanks to the part where you told us to hit the showers."

"Oh…" M'gann smiled. "Yes. That is such an odd phrase. What does it mean?"

"It, uh," Robin fumbled, gesturing vaguely. "It's a colloquialism for leave."

M'gann nodded comprehensively. "Ah. Thank you." She hesitated, stroking her uncomfortable human cuticles awkwardly. "Are we… off-duty now? May I call you by your true names?"

"You can call me by my true name _any_ day, sweet stuff," Wally hinted, nudging her. She giggled.

"Oh, Wally, you are funny," she told him sincerely, and she didn't understand why he seemed to deflate.

"Of course you may," Aqualad confirmed with a pointed eye-roll in the speedster's direction.

"All right… Kaldur." M'gann beamed, weighing the name, testing it. "And—and _Wall_-y! And Robin, and Su…"

Her voice dwindled. Superboy was not looking at her.

"Superboy?" she murmured. He flinched, but said nothing. M'gann could still feel his resentment at her – did she have to call it an invasion now? – her visit to his mind, curdling in the niches of the room.

"The hour is late," Aqualad stated, interrupting her fretting. "I must return to Atlantis."

"Yeah, Uncle Barry'll have my hide if I'm not home in five minutes. _Which_, granted, I absolutely can be, but…" Wally cocked an eyebrow flirtatiously at her. "Why risk it?"

"Have a safe journey," M'gann said to both of them. Aqualad nodded appreciatively before heading toward the back exit that led to the beach, and Wally squeezed her shoulder before trotting in the direction of the teleportation devices called zeta tubes. M'gann worried for his safety, riding in those things – Uncle J'onn had said that they were still untrustworthy prototypes. She took comfort in knowing, however, that if Wally was somehow projected into the desert somewhere, he would find his way home by running.

Robin gave her a curt nod before vanishing from sight, doubtlessly to find Batman, who she presumed was still in the Cave somewhere, going over the details of the team's encounter with Mister Twister several hours before.

Only Superboy remained, shuffling into the living room and sitting heavily on the couch, causing the table to rattle. M'gann bit her lip – her soft, fragile human lip – and quietly approached him, hovering anxiously behind the furniture with furtive prudence.

"What was it like, shape-shifting into Red Tornado?" Superboy asked very suddenly, causing her to jump. "Did you… become just like him?"

He turned slowly, staring up at her with wandering eyes.

"Did you lose your feelings?" he finished, tone tight with confusion.

"Oh… no," she whispered. "No, the transformation is only external. All interior things remain the same, all inherent, individual traits are…"

She swallowed. His gaze was unnerving her.

"I did not lose any of my feelings," she confirmed, wringing her hands. "I still feared for you—all of you; I—yes."

"You didn't need to," he told her lamely, turning away.

"I do regardless."

"We're always okay in the end," he muttered, and M'gann was unsure as to whether he was speaking to her or to himself. "We always will be."

His shoulders tensed as he said, "All of us."

M'gann's insides fluttered, and for once they did not feel heavy and twisting and hot.

"I'm sorry." His jaw tightened, and the words were all she needed.

"I am sorry, too," she murmured back, her heart woozy. "Perhaps we can… try again?"

His head turned infinitesimally toward her, and his expression was suddenly soft and calm. It looked nice.

"Try again?" he repeated.

"Yes." She stepped back and curtsied. The gold fabric shifted under her fingers. "Greetings, friend. I am M'gann M'orzz, of the far planet Mars."

He did not speak for some time. M'gann did not move, her torso still bowed, her one foot still pointed forward, her hands still holding up the skirt. When at last she dared look up, Superboy was smiling at her.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Superboy."

* * *

><p><strong>Gotham City<strong>

**February 12, 1941 – 12:48 AM EDT**

There was a full moon over Gotham – so full that Wally didn't need his goggles, which apparently also were able to discern visible shapes in pitch-blackness. But they looked pretty neat, so he wore perched on his forehead anyway.

His decision to spend the night at Wayne Manor while Barry and Iris were out of town for the weekend would ordinarily have been a pretty smart one, were it not for the fact that his hosts had needed to unexpectedly run off and apprehend the Penguin after his sudden escape from Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Wally hadn't really been in the mood to loiter around with Alfred diligently following his every twitch of movement, and so the next best thing had been to patrol the city and foil some villainous plans, or something to that effect.

Most of the night so far had been tremendously boring – stray cats, philosophical hoboes, stumbling drunks. At the moment, Wally was contemplating the crippling dullness of his situation atop a rusty fire escape overlooking an alleyway near the marina, counting the few stars he could see through the orange smog. He would let out the occasional tortured sigh or conspicuous yawn. He had kept himself mildly entertained by imagining what it would be like to kiss M'gann for the first hour or so of his patrol, but that had, shockingly, gotten old by now.

He was just about to move onto the next sector when he hit the jackpot (or perhaps it hit him).

A tiny, doddering old lady was tiptoeing furtively down the alleyway, sending circumspect looks toward the grimy brick buildings on either side of her. Wally straightened.

His view permitted him to spot the two hunched thugs following her long before she did.

He licked his dry mouth, tensing, ready to leap the moment they tried to close in on her. His heart felt tight and sore; his split lip was throbbing. There was an ugly purpling bruise on his cheek from where Mister Twister had backhanded him the day before.

Very suddenly, one of the men sprung forward and threw his arm around the woman's throat, lifting her violently off the ground from behind as he choked her.

"Hand over all yer dough, grandma," he sneered, and his friend whipped out a switchblade. The woman tried to scream, eyes wide and wild, but it was garbled; she wheezed, kicking her legs feebly.

Wally's entire body unleashed itself and he rocketed down from the fire escape without blinking in one rattling motion.

"Hold it right there, bucko!" he yelled before somersaulting to a halt in front of the old lady, putting up his fists as if to box. "Time to answer to Kid…"

He froze.

"…Flash?"

The old woman stood whimpering in front of him, but the thugs were both splayed out on the ground, unconscious. They both had one arrow sticking out of their left shoulders. Dimly, Wally presumed from the needled tips that the things contained tranquilizers.

He whipped his head back to the woman, who was crossing herself and sobbing in hysterical Italian.

"What happened?" he demanded, looking around wildly.

The woman pointed directly behind him, toward the fire escape from which he had come, and clasped her hands together in reverence as she continued to babble unintelligibly.

Wally spun around to follow the direction of her finger, and his eyes widened.

There, silhouetted against the hazy apricot moon, stood an indiscernible figure with a bow in one hand a quiver slung across the back. There was a banner of hair billowing out behind it, and its legs were muscular and pronounced even in the darkness.

Wally's eyes grew more protuberant – it was looking straight at him, _through_ him.

Before he could even begin to make a sound, the form whipped around and fled in a single blink, vanishing over the top of the building. Wally threw out a hand (as if that would call it back).

"Wait!" he shouted, and left the histrionically weeping woman to pick up her dropped bags and skitter away.

He ran up the side of the building in a second, just in time to see the figure leaping from rooftop to rooftop with catlike grace, not even using its arms for balance. He sped up and pursued it. It seemed to hear him approaching just as he was about to reach out and grab it by the hair and suddenly took a dive off the side of one building, clattering to the concrete and dashing around a corner.

Gotham City was a maze to any outsider, and Wally hardly spent enough time in it to know the layout street-by-street. But there was a peculiar certainty in him as he went after the mysterious archer, as though he knew precisely where it would go.

"Stop!" Wally bellowed as he rounded the next corner, and skidded to a clumsy halt, eyes wide with bewilderment.

The perpetrator had led him to a wide-open vacant lot beside the harbor, and had stopped completely, standing unmoving in the middle of it with its back to him.

He stared at it, taking in the details that the now-provided illumination from the wide moonlight revealed.

The person turned to face him, and he all but gasped aloud.

It was a girl.

She couldn't have been any older than he was, with slight shoulders and an angular face and sinewy, tanned arms. A dark, almost triangular green mask covered the upper half of her visage – it revealed two smoldering rain-strained gray eyes that sliced him open and inspected him as if dissecting him. Her muscles seemed to have been chiseled into her; her hair, long and straight and golden, trailed in a high ponytail down to her midback. Against the deep evergreen of her attire – a tight, short-sleeved turtleneck, a pair of somewhat loose shorts that reached just above her knees, and a high pair of black combat boots straight out of Germany – Wally thought he glimpsed a bright green arrow pointing toward her head.

She lifted her chin in a challenge to him, as if to say, _who __the __hell __do __you __think __you __are? __Come __and __get __me, __you __chump_.

Wally shook himself out of his observation and took an offensive pose.

"Sorry, miss. I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me."

He had no authority, actually. He didn't even really have a cause to apprehend her other than out of sheer curiosity, though, admittedly, Gotham hadn't taken kindly to rogue vigilantes once the Batman had cemented himself as the local guardian.

The girl seemed to let out a breath sounding altogether similar to a laugh. Wally bristled.

"Miss—" he started to say, but suddenly, the girl was charging toward him with astonishing agility. She catapulted forward, somersaulting through the air like a knife, and it was only thanks to Wally's inhuman reflexes that his face was narrowly able to avoid her foot.

He leaped aside, stumbling. She landed silently in the space he'd just been occupying on all fours, not wasting a second in shooting to her feet and pivoting around toward him with a leg aiming for his torso. He caught her foot before it hit him and yanked her forward firmly, causing her to pitch backwards and land face-up on the ground with a _crack_.

"Look," he drawled, still holding onto her foot so that her leg was parallel to his body, "resisting arrest isn't going to help your cause." He leaned slightly down toward her, smirking, and released her foot. "Resisting _me_ won't, either."

In response, she snarled at him and took hold of his legs with her own before twisting them and causing him to collapse beside her with a yelp. She jumped up, panting, fists at the ready.

He gawked at her for a moment before scrambling to his feet again, mirroring her position. She crouched.

He moved to his left and she moved to hers, and they circled each other for several minutes. Wally grew quickly impatient, but he made no movement toward her. He would only fight back if she attacked him herself. Hitting girls was not something to which he could philosophically accede.

She tilted her head slightly at him, almost curiously, and took on a vaguely sultry expression.

"Boy," she said, and Wally's heart stiffened at the sound of her husky voice, so low and inviting and different from the saccharine M'gann's. "For the fastest boy alive, you sure are slow."

Nah. Hitting girls was okay – girls like _this_ one, anyway. Wally growled and shot toward her at super speed with a fist raised.

He didn't quite know what transpired in the second afterward, but it ended with her snatching his lifted arm, twisting it harshly and painfully behind him until he was turned completely around, and jerking him against her shockingly warm chest.

He squirmed, trying to kick her, but her grip was steely, her fingers pushing bruises into his already tender arm. He winced.

He became uncomfortably aware of the presence of her cheek as it lightly touched his, and of her breath and lips abruptly skirting across his ear. Involuntarily, he shuddered.

"I'm so impressed, Kid Bozo," she murmured almost seductively, smirking. "You'll definitely be something to watch out for."

"Quit yammering and surrender, you harpy!" Wally yelled.

She chuckled, and it went dashing briskly into his shivering eardrum like a winter breeze.

"You got me," she whispered. "Go brag about it to all your pals."

The hand on his arm released him, and he started to whirl around to grab her, but was met with a foot to the solar plexus that bowled him clean over.

"I really had a swell time tonight, Kid Featherweight," she teased him. "Let's do it again sometime."

She stepped over him until her standing form straddled him, and leaned down to him with an arm resting on one protruding knee until her ponytail, twisting down over her shoulder, tickled the tip of his nose. "I'm free Fridays."

Her lips were large, soft-looking, and rosy.

Wally, wheezing on the ground, would have conjured up a comeback to be reckoned with if the girl hadn't waved, turned, and vanished from sight, dissolving into the Shadows as if she was a part of them.

Wally didn't waste any time in hurling himself to his feet with a series of indignant, pained splutters, gaping incredulously in the direction that the girl had disappeared.

He stuffed his horrendous, gnawing mortification down and veiled it with indignant fury.

"Don't think this is the last you'll see of me!" he shouted, shaking his fist at the sky. "I will hunt you down! For _justice_!"

He nodded in satisfaction at the empty lot – _sure__ showed __her_ – before revolving around and rocketing away in an indiscernible streak of black and muted red.

From her perch atop the storage unit just behind where Kid Flash had stood, the girl wore an expression of peculiar, melancholic disappointment, but it only lasted for a moment before she jumped to the next unit, darting silently toward East Gotham without looking back, her shadow flashing across the sidewalks.

* * *

><p><strong>"Martian" Translations:<strong>

_Omlouvám,__ omlouvám; __ahoj, __M__'__gann!_ — I'm sorry, I'm sorry; hello, Megan!

_Jako__ ja_, Superboy – _jsem __sám, __taky_. — Like me, Superboy – I do, too.

__Vezměte __je __na __molu __s ní_. _— Take them to the pier with her (the bioship).

_sestra_ — sister.


	4. Interlude I

**I've been, in between chapters, writing little "interludes" of character development and such, mostly for my own benefit. I made a little post on Tumblr earlier asking if people wanted to read them, and I got several votes of yes, so here's the first one! I really plan on having M'gann and Robin be tight friends in this story. Blaaaaah.**

**Takes place between chapters two & three.**

* * *

><p>M'gann could not sleep. That was the long and short of it. The sound of the crackling, sparkling stars popped incandescently in her temples until she could ignore them no longer and floated silently up the stairs to the observation deck atop the mountain, feeling disturbingly human gooseflesh crawling over her shoulders.<p>

She sat there now, perched impossibly on the metal railing with her knees at her chin, and the maritime breeze twisted around her hair like curious fingers. She sighed softly, amber eyes wandering through the constellations until they found the dim redness of her distant Mars. Her chest grew pinched.

She closed her eyes and shifted her skin, unraveling the creamy tan to allow the enveloping, comfortable green she was so accustomed to. The change poured down her in gentle waves, like the tide far below her, and she leaned her head back to expose her neck to the sky, relishing in the calm that overcame her now that her forced façade had been set aside.

She saw the dark red surfaces of the caves of Mars painted against the insides of her eyelids and she wanted to sleep, to dream, to allow her mind to meander with aimless contentment through the nacreous, misty astral pathways. But everything within her was heavy and stubborn, tenacious with the crippling presence of gravity; she hummed softly to herself, a song from home, and took scraps of comfort from the faintly recalled melody.

She should have heard the footsteps long before they reached her, but so lost was she in her own introspection that she let her guard tumble.

"It's a nice night," a light voice said from beside her, and she gasped loudly, bones bristling – sharply, she whirled to her right, mind buzzing with action, and felt her thoughts freeze at the sight of the diminutive, impish boy who stood at her elbow.

"Robin!" she exclaimed, and her skin shifted back to its Caucasian state of its own accord. "H-Hello."

"Hi," he replied nonchalantly. The feeble sliver of the moon glinted against the surface of his Ray Bans. His dark hair shivered against the indolent gusts of wind, and his hands were in the pockets of his warm-looking burgundy sweater. "Couldn't sleep?"

M'gann, after a moment, replied, "No… I couldn't."

"Yeah, neither could I. Always have trouble sleeping when I'm not – y'know, at home," Robin muttered distractedly, exhaling bluntly as he stretched his arms behind his head. "Good to know I'm not the only insomniac around here, though."

"Artemis doesn't sleep," M'gann blurted out very abruptly, as the vague image of a girl dressed in green flickered through her mind. "Not often."

Robin turned his head at last to look at her, eyebrows low and frowning behind the sunglasses.

"Who's Artemis?" he asked hesitantly, lowering his head skeptically at her. She thought she caught a glimpse of eyelashes before he raised his chin again.

"I—" Her voice was tight, and she swallowed dryly. "I do not – _don__'__t_ know, really. Sorry. She could… be anyone. It happens sometimes…"

"You let your mind slip into someone else's?" Robin suggested with a knowing (but empathetic) smirk. "Yeah, I guess it must get lonely in that dusty ol' noggin of yours."

"It's… it isn't _lonely_, really," M'gann murmured, and it was a lie. "It's just… different. It's quiet. Like that radio station Superboy always listens to, with all of the static. It is – it's like that."

"You're really picking up on the contractions," Robin observed, clearly pleased. "I've taught you well, young Martian. Our finned friend should join the class."

"Oh, I don't know," M'gann said with a smile. "Kaldur's manner of speech… suits him. I think. I think it gives him… dignity."

Robin let loose a carefree chuckle.

"Hah. That's one word for our man Kaldur'ahm." He inhaled, and M'gann, in a moment's lapse of self-control, allowed her senses to meld with his – she could feel the salt in the air twisting up through his nose, could share in the clean pleasure he derived from it. Her mind retreated after a brief moment, before he could notice its company.

"I've never been near the sea until now," M'gann whispered. "When… when I first came to Earth, with Uncle J'onn, he showed me the vast blue surface of your planet… the rolling oceans and the endless waves. I had never seen anything so beautiful."

"Never really looked at it that way. It was always just the ocean to me," Robin confessed indifferently, yawning behind one pale hand.

"It's… I think it's one of the most beautiful things—" M'gann's throat grew raw from an emotion she couldn't describe. "Everything here is so… connected. So trusting of all other things. Not like Mars. Everyone is… everyone is together."

"I wouldn't go that far," Robin interjected immediately. "The world's far from perfect, M'gann."

M'gann's wide brown eyes blinked, and she glanced at Robin, eyebrows high.

"Y-You can… call me _Megan_; it is my Earth name…"

"I prefer M'gann," Robin told her. "You do enough hiding as it is. M'gann's that little scrap of you we can all be acquainted with, y'know?"

"I—" The feeling was back in her throat now, grasping her uvula, and she felt a sudden urge to shed tears and crawl away. "I… I'm sorry if—"

"Oh! Don't get me wrong! Secrets aren't bad things," Robin appended hastily, waving a hand. "I've got a million of 'em. But… you know you don't need to hide from us or anything, don't you? Not if you don't want to."

M'gann frowned, biting her lip.

"What… what do you mean?" she whispered.

He pointed to her, circling his finger in a summating gesture.

"That's not what you really look like," he said frankly, "is it?"

M'gann's human heart, like the organ it was supposed to imitate, quickened and slowed all at once and M'gann did not know what to do. Robin's face was unreadable behind the sunglasses, and perhaps she should _know_ how to read it, because faces were the minds of the Earthlings.

"What?1 Of course it is!" she cried rapidly, thinking in shame of her true form and shuddering. "I…"

"M'gann, I understand," Robin muttered, and M'gann was silent. "This isn't the best time to be different, and you're not like we are. That's fine. You have to make yourself look as much like a human as possible. But… I saw you, earlier, sitting out here and… being yourself. You were green."

"N—"

"And you looked just fine," Robin told her with an earnesty she had not yet encountered from him. Her teeth raked over her fragile lips. The inside of her mouth was like the hollow of a tree, and Robin was looking her straight in the eye. "M'gann. You looked _just__ fine_."

She gazed wordlessly at him, shoulders tense and knees cold beneath her palms. He bowed his head pensively.

"You don't have to hide from me," he said quietly, turning away to face the ocean again. "If you ever need a break, or… or if you ever need to – just be yourself around someone, then… you know, I'm around. I won't judge you."

The slightest of nostalgic smiles flickered across his face.

"I was in the circus, y'know. You can't judge anybody there."

M'gann watched him silently. Her mind was a tumultuous, babbling mess, but her mouth let loose no words. Robin seemed to forget that she was there after a time, content with staring out at the indiscernible surface of the endless waters, and M'gann could taste the spring on the wind.

After a long time, a very long time, she exhaled through her nostrils and let her feigned skin color fall away. Her green shoulders glistened in the silver moonlight.

Robin glanced aside at her, taking her in. She lowered her head, resting her forehead against her raised knees, and said nothing.

After a few moments, she felt a small hand on her shoulder. She turned her head, cheek brushing her kneecap, and looked at Robin. He was smiling.

"Better?" he asked gently.

She nodded. He squeezed her shoulder once before releasing it, following the action with a yawn and a stretch. He started toward the doorway back indoors, back straight, pallid face satisfied.

"The hour's late, Miss M," he declared, opening the door with a flourish. "I'm gonna hit the hay, so…"

"Robin," M'gann interpolated with such gentleness that he nearly didn't notice. He looked over his shoulder at her curled-in form, eyebrow cocked.

She beamed.

"Thank you."

He returned the expression after a moment's pause, nodding in understanding.

"And – permit me," he implored her, "if you let everyone else see you the way you really are, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't react very differently than I did. We're here for you. That's what friends are for."

M'gann's eyes widened and her breath grew reverent.

"Friends?" she whispered.

Robin smiled.

"Yeah. Friends. See you anon, Miss M!"

He closed the door behind him, and M'gann could hear one of his trademark triumphant laughs from behind its muffling surface. She kissed one of her kneecaps and rested her chin on it, glistening eyes staring back into space, and the wet trails on her cheeks were like nothing she had ever felt, but her lips were upturned in a smile. Was this how crying worked? She wasn't sure. What she did know was that she had to do it, and she had to do it happily.

The sky burgeoned at its usual torpid pace, and M'gann thought of home.


	5. Chapter Three: Denial, Part One

**Merry Christmas, everybody! Gosh, do I ever have good timing. Er, anyway!**

**This chapter, I'll warn you now, is just as fat as its predecessor, but let me assure all of you right now: _they will get shorter_. The next one shouldn't be over 4000 or 5000 words at most. Same goes for the one following. There's just a lot of exposition I need to get through right now but once that's done, we're home free!**

**Have a wonderful holiday. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three:<strong>

_**Denial, Part One**_

* * *

><p>"In passing, also, I would like to say that the first time Adam had a chance he laid the blame on woman."<p>

— Nancy Astor (date unknown)

* * *

><p><strong>Salem, Massachusetts<strong>

**March 16, 1941 – 6:58 PM EDT**

The gossamer flickers of firelight beat against the wallpaper, soft and tranquil in the dimness. The sound of feeble, ragged breaths swayed evenly through the room like a gray tide, punctuated by pops and snaps from the burning wood.

The woman in the bed looked small under the deep green mass of the quilt. Her white hair, shimmering and fine, twisted in a loose braid over her shoulder. Her breaths were erratic; her eyes were closed and fluttering. One of her frail hands was held by the calloused fingers of another – by the pensive, forlorn old man seated in a hard mahogany chair at her bedside. His hair was gray and his face was craggy; his blue eyes were immeasurably lackluster.

The room was quiet, save for the fire and her breathing and the crackle of the radio over the fireplace, dolefully emitting "_I'm Getting Sentimental Over You_."

The woman inhaled with purpose and strength, and her eyes drew effortlessly open.

"Any minute now," she murmured tenderly, sighing.

He patted her hand and smiled, tired and warm.

"I know," he replied gently.

She exhaled heavily through her nose and squeezed his fingers. With the slowness of great strain, she turned her head toward him and placed her free hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

"Don't…" she rasped with a twitch of a smile that carried more spark than the fire itself. "Don't… you dare make me… w-wait."

The hand fell, dropping onto the quilt without bouncing, and the head drifted away as her eyes closed and the rattle of her breaths grew still.

"I'll come running, Inza," the man whispered, reverently permitted himself a solitary tear as he clutched her hand.

"I'll come running."

* * *

><p><strong>Gotham Academy<strong>

**March 26, 1941 – 9:42 PM EDT**

Wally's chest was alight with scratching effort as he dashed circles around the ruined gymnasium of Gotham Academy. His legs, which ordinarily felt so weightless and lithe, were dragging and aching. He was panting. His lungs felt as though they were being eaten apart. But he could not stop.

"Kid!" Robin shouted, and it swelled and went muffled as Wally raced repeatedly past. "Now! From behind!"

Wally obeyed, skidding to the right and jetting toward the enormous android in the center of the room. The thing's pointed ears glistened, and its red eyes were aglow.

"Access. Superman." The android whirled with abnormal speed, and its cumbersome fist collided mercilessly with Wally's torso, knocking the boy backwards with such force that he slammed into the bleachers on the other side of the gymnasium with a yell of pain.

"Kid Flash!" M'gann shrieked, gentle voice fraught with worry. Wally hardly heard her. His temples thudded horribly, like hammers slamming into wet towels. His knee throbbed from where it had cracked against the metal framework of the bleachers. His lip, once again split, was bleeding profusely, spreading the bitter iron taste over his teeth.

With a groan, he fell limply back, closing his eyes and grimacing at the fading ceiling. "A simple mission," Batman had said. "You'll have no problem," the Flash had said. Dirty rotten liars, that's what they were.

Wally coughed, and a loose clot of blood burst up.

It was now painfully apparent that Batman's vague statement describing the fact that an android called Amazo could reproduce the powers of every member of the Justice League had not been something to be taken lightly. After all, robots were just crazy buckets of bolts anyway; they were bound to be poorly constructed. Mad science. All of it.

The point was, Wally now knew exactly what it felt like to be punched by Superman. His chest plate felt as if it had split in two.

They had been sent in merely to observe the thing, but Wally's loud chewing had been irreversibly noticed by the android that they'd thought was at rest. Its creator, Anton Ivo, had fled the scene quite a while ago, saved by the distraction that Amazo presented to the Team. By now, the thing had impersonated Superman, Martian Manhunter, Batman, and the Flash, and the Team showed no signs of being able to win.

Superboy, enraged by the fact that he could not best the powers of the man he had been cloned from, had been stumbling furiously around in a rage for the past several minutes. Robin, ever-evasive, had been flitting in loops around the android and tossing his explosive disks. M'gann had been attempting to stop the robot telekinetically, but to no avail, and Kaldur had been forced to resort to up-close combat with his swords. None of them showed any vague advantage against Amazo.

There were disjointed murmurs of sound thumping into Wally's consciousness, and he wheezed in response, his solar plexus constricted.

"Kid!" Superboy was bellowing.

_Wally_. M'gann's fresh mind link, which still tickled the back of his skull, bloomed into the corners of his mind. _Wally, Wally, get up! We need you!_

At the sound of those words, Wally was able to find enough strength to push himself back into a sitting position, knees poking up out of the broken wood, and stagger to his feet. His whole torso smarted, but he attempted to pay it no mind.

The scene before him was chaotic. M'gann was hovering in anxious circles over the battle, wringing her hands, and Wally could feel her uncertainty shoving against him. Superboy was picking himself out of a discordant pile of wreckage. Aqualad was toe-to-toe with Amazo, his water swords flashing and glowing as he swung them; and Robin was expertly tossing Batarangs that clinked and bounced off of the android's chest.

Amazo turned lurchingly toward the pesky Boy Wonder, and Wally's heart clenched.

"Access," Amazo stated. "Martian Manhunter."

It raised a hand and Robin was lifted, flailing and squirming, off of the ground as the rest of the Team gawked in horror. The great hand closed and Robin, arching back, eyes wide, cried out hoarsely. The sound quickly fizzled.

_He is crushing his heart!_ M'gann gasped in their heads, her terror burbling and encroaching. _No— _"No!"

Wally was running toward them before he could even draw a breath. Suddenly, his back was no longer sore; his chest was no longer bruised; his exhaustion was but an afterthought.

"Get your mitts off my pal, you bucket of bolts!" he shouted furiously, legs blurring.

Amazo's head riveted toward him in an instant, and Robin was dropped to the floor with a resounding _thud_.

"Access. Superman," it recited. Wally raised his fist, teeth gritted, forehead sweaty and dusty.

Amazo caught his entire torso with vice-like brutality, raising him still-kicking off of the ground and, with a merciless expression, tightening its arms around him with crushing strength.

Wally screamed, feeling two of his ribs crack. The pressure on his lungs quickly eradicated all capability of sound, and as he stared up at the ceiling he felt tears stinging his eyes, rushing down his cheeks.

"Kid Flash!" Robin bellowed, voice cracking, but it was dim.

_I'm going to die_, Wally thought in a voice no older than a child's. _My first darned mission, and I'm going to die_. He knew the others could hear him, but he no longer cared. _B-Boys, I – and girl! – I… want you to know…_

"Access. Martian Manhunter."

With slow, languid peculiarity, Wally felt the metal arms fade and vanish, and suddenly his face collided with the hardwood floor. He was shaking with shuddering breaths, his left arm askew. An adamant _thwack!_ emitted from directly to his right and, with great effort, he lifted and turned his head toward it. Through his bleary eyes, he could discern an arrow protruding from the wood. Clumsily, he swiveled his gaze to the windows from which it likely had come, but all he saw were black branches and moonlight.

He let his head drop and waited for his body to begin to heal itself. Amazo was lumbering away.

Moments later, by means of a process involving "causing a paradox in the makeup of the machine" that Wally hardly had the energy to attempt to comprehend, Superboy had destroyed Amazo, and Robin was slinging Wally's arm across his shoulders and lifting him gingerly to his feet.

"You okay, Kid?" he asked, tone tight.

Wally snickered, feet stumbling, chin dropping.

"Y'know, y'd think that outta heart-rending concern for my mortal well-being, y'd at least have the humanity t' regress into a first-name basis with me."

Behind the ebony outlines of the angular mask, a wide expression of relief rippled, and Robin smirked.

"He's fine, guys," he declared, and M'gann, as though she had been waiting for permission, soared forward to embrace Wally, babbling fretfully in Martian he did not understand. "His mouth is still working."

Superboy smiled wanly at Wally before blinking, attention captured by the arrow in the floor. He strode forward, nudging it with his sneaker.

"Where'd this come from?" he inquired, quizzically glancing at the others.

"I am not certain precisely," Kaldur murmured, nursing a bruised arm and wincing, "but I believe it was shot from the north window."

He gestured toward the panes that Wally had noticed earlier, against which the bare-boned trees were beating. Superboy, unabashedly curious, crouched down and carefully tugged the arrow out of the polished boards, inspecting it with fascinated scrutiny.

"It's green," he observed bluntly.

Wally, brain racing, began to piece things together, and soon, he was ecstatically beaming.

"Hot dog!" he exclaimed. "It was Speedy! Speedy was here! He's looking out for us!"

"But it's green," Superboy repeated with a furrowed brow. He held it out to Wally. "Look."

"So what? Guy works for _Green_ Arrow, brainiac. Maybe he just had to borrow some. Maybe he's trying to make his quiver more colorful for the spring!" He glanced reverently up at the open window. "Thanks, buddy."

"Well," Superboy muttered, fixing the arrow with an unimpressed frown as Wally handed it back to him. "I guess we'd better throw this out—"

"No!" Wally squawked, surging forward and snatching the weapon from Superboy's grasp. The clone blinked widely at him. "Souvenir," Wally explained as though it was perfectly obvious. Robin, with a fond roll of his eyes, elbowed Wally right in the cracked ribs. The speedster squeaked.

"What was that for?" Wally choked out, and Robin laughed.

"Little help for that accelerated healing of yours," he retorted coolly.

Kaldur sighed at the four of them, smiling wearily.

"Come," he said, padding toward the exit. "Let us return home."

"Yes!" M'gann agreed happily, still hanging dutifully off of Wally's free arm. "Sestra will prepare for us."

As they all retreated, straggling and ennervated, into the night, a limber shadow lingered in the windowpane before dashing away silently against the coldly glittering stars.

* * *

><p><strong>Mount Justice<strong>

**April 1, 1941 – 3:17 PM EDT**

Wally's Friday could admittedly have gone better.

It had not helped matters that the school had begun preparations for the imminent Slimy and Atrocious Torture (Aunt Iris would rag on him to stop calling the S.A.T.s such a juvenile name), set to be taken in April, nor had the fact that it had been Dodgeball Day in Gym. His nose still smarted from where it had been assaulted by one of the rogue Rubber Orbs of Pain, and he could feel light bruises forming on his torso. If it wasn't getting beaten to a pulp by a villain, it was being clobbered with dodgeballs. Certainly not the glamorous superhero life he had expected, but then again, as Aunt Iris said, "you can't always get what you want."

He didn't require _always_. He required _Dodgeball Days_.

Wally was still admittedly quite wary of the zeta tubes, so he had decided to take the backroads to Happy Harbor at super speed, his goggles glinting in the early spring sunlight. He was still getting used to the ungainly things. They were practical, of course, but a strange part of him missed the bare, rapid blinking and the snarling sting of the wind in his face.

His backpack thudded against his back as he skidded to a halt at the wide entrance of Mount Justice. Without even thinking to remove the goggles, he booted the door open after entering the access code on the dial above the knob and paraded in, trotting toward the kitchen.

When he arrived in the doorway, he threw out his arms and sang an exciting musical intro, dancing in.

"Don't touch that dial, folks! The Wonderful Wallace West has arri—"

He was cut off from his speech by an untied shoelace, and with a yelp, he pitched forward, landing flat on his face upon the hardwood floor.

"The Wonderful Wallace West," a husky voice intoned with leering amusement from directly above him. He blinked, seeing two black combat boots planted across from his nose. "Oh, it suits you, Kid Bozo. Do you do birthday parties?"

Wally's whole being froze in horror. He _knew_ that voice, perhaps a bit more well than he would have preferred. He could still feel it wriggling into his ear, accompanied by stray tips of blonde hair. The finger-shaped bruises, now green, that dotted his right arm, seemed suddenly noticeable.

His first thought was that the owner of said infuriatingly familiar voice had somehow entered the Cave and taken the Team captive. If she had hurt Robin—or Sweet Cheeks—!

Wally scrambled to his feet, putting up his fists with ardent determination, teeth gritted.

"All right, put up your dukes! Let's finish what we started! You'll have to go through _me_ if you want to..."

The disgruntled expressions of Batman and Green Arrow drilling into him eradicated what remained of his sentence. Still in his combative position, he blinked owlishly at the other occupants of the living room, who were all frowning at him as if he was running amok with a cleaver: M'gann, Superboy, Kaldur, a smirking Robin... all gathered behind the lightly muscular form of a blonde girl in green whose stormy eyes were seething.

"You?" Wally squawked without an ounce of dignity.

"My name's _Artemis_, thanks, though 'you' is a good try." She tilted one sharply crooked eyebrow, and one corner of her mouth curled dryly. She had the nerve to have a dimple.

Wally would have called her attractive if he was, perhaps, severely delusional.

"Kid Flash," he replied curtly. She extended a hand. He shot it a disdainful look and did not shake it. "Never heard of you."

"We can fix that," she retorted, face tightening into a bitter, almost wounded glower as her hand retreated sharply.

"She's my niece," Green Arrow supplied quickly, stepping forward. "On my – sister's side."

"Another niece, eh?" Robin quipped in an amused mutter.

"But she's Asian," Superboy said blankly.

"She has his hair, though," M'gann observed. "And his spirit."

"Spirit?" the girl called Artemis repeated flatly. "You're the Martian, aren't you?"

M'gann smiled. "Yes!"

Artemis paused, looking her over. "Shouldn't you be… I don't know, green? You look a little… human."

M'gann's face flushed and her eyes widened. She put up a denying hand with haste, shaking her head.

"Oh – well, um, no; actually I possess a… mutated gene which…"

"She's not a normal Martian, you hag. She's special," Wally declared defensively, putting his arm around M'gann's slight shoulders. She smiled gratefully at his protectiveness.

Artemis' silver eyes flashed dangerously.

"She your girl?" she demanded harshly. "_Cute_. Can't wait to see that turn around to bite you in the—"

"Who _are_ you?" Wally yelled.

"Enough." The gravelly, adamant voice of Batman cut firmly in, and its owner stepped forward stonily. "Artemis here is your new teammate."

"What?" Wally and Robin shouted in astonished unison.

Artemis smirked.

"You can't do that!" Wally shouted, directed at Artemis. "What about Speedy?"

"He's gone solo," Green Arrow supplied wearily. "He goes by Red Arrow now, and he's completely detached from this team."

"No, he isn't!" Wally exclaimed. "He's been looking out for us! He was there when we were fighting Amazo; he _helped_ us!"

"Actually," Artemis interjected, tossing her ponytail haughtily over her shoulder and grinning smugly aside at Wally, "that was _me_."

Wally's jaw popped open in consternation, visage rife with indignant disbelief. He wanted nothing more than to physically wipe the self-satisfied smirk from her face.

"No," he finally flummoxed. "No, no, that was—"

"Man, they broke the mold with you," Artemis observed lightly. "You'd think you'd be a little bit more grateful to the girl who _saved your life_."

"That's not—"

"Face it, Mister Wonderful," she jabbed at him, her gaze keen. "You'd be _dead_ without me."

"You didn't save anything!" Wally snapped explosively, whirling accusatorially on Batman. "Batman. Please tell me you're kidding."

"I don't kid," Batman grunted.

"He doesn't kid," Robin said simultaneously.

"Artemis is here to stay," Batman said sternly. Artemis' pompously smouldering stare bore into Wally obnoxiously.

"I will prepare her living quarters," Red Tornado stated.

Artemis' eyes grew minimally protuberant and she turned toward the android.

"Oh, no, I don't need—" she began hastily, but Red Tornado's form was already receding down the hall.

She turned back to the Team, frowning darkly.

"I'm not _living_ here," she spat decisively.

"It's for the sake of _team_-building," Wally drawled spitefully. "We _all_ have our own rooms. We're a _team_. That's what you signed up for, right?"

"You're talking about this like we're supposed to be a _family_, or something." The word "family" was spoken with such unbridled hatred that it took Wally quite aback. She pivoted incredulously to Batman. "That's—it's not how these things _work_! Is it? You're not supposed to get _attached_! You fight together and then you're done."

"Your team should be considerably more important than family," Batman told her gruffly. "Do _not_ segregate yourself. You need to be with them one hundred percent or not at all. There is no median."

"I didn't _come here_," Artemis snarled, "to – make _friends_. I came here to do good things. To fight crime."

"Your team is part of the package," Batman grunted.

"We cannot work effectively together if one of us is divided." Kaldur stepped forward at last, fixing Artemis with his nacreous gaze. She blinked widely at him as if she had forgotten that he was there. "We cannot work effectively together if you do not work _with _us."

"Although we wouldn't _mind_," Wally interpolated pointedly. Kaldur shot him a cold, warning glower and he relented, folding his arms grumpily and grumbling something under his breath.

"You got something to say to me?" Artemis demanded, jerking her chin challengingly at him.

He bristled.

"Nothing at all," he retorted with vitriol, and she scoffed at him.

"Didn't _think_ so."

"Perhaps we should introduce ourselves more formally," Kaldur murmured. "Seeing as how Batman had just finished telling us your name when Wally arrived—"

"Butted in, you mean," Artemis interrupted. Kaldur blinked, attempting to disregard her comment.

"My name is Kaldur'ahm," he told her warmly, extending a hand. She took it. "Aqualad. You can call me Kaldur."

"Pleasure," Artemis said, not sounding particularly pleased at all.

M'gann snatched Artemis' hand next, beaming widely and shaking it with enthusiasm that made Artemis look like she was having a small fit.

"And I'm Miss Martian! M'gann, call me M'gann! Or, or, you can call me by my Earth-name! Call me Maggie!"

"Y-Y-Y-Yeah," Artemis managed to eke out before wrenching her hand out of M'gann's. "Uh. Thanks. I'll go with Maggie for now."

M'gann's delighted expression faltered almost imperceptibly and she stepped back, folding her hands and bowing her head demurely. Artemis looked at the others warily, preparing to defend herself against the next attacker, who turned out to be Robin.

The Boy Wonder indicated himself with a flourish and bowed dramatically, causing Artemis to frown strangely at him. He smirked behind the Ray-Bans.

"Robin's the name," he declared proudly. "Being better than everyone else is my game."

Artemis coughed back something sounding eerily similar to a laugh and permitted herself a begrudgingly amused smile.

"We'll see about _that_," she retorted. Robin seemed pleased.

Before he could respond, however, Wally had crowded him out of the way and stopped directly in front of Artemis, standing extremely close to her with his hands on his hips and murder written in his visage, protruding lower lip and all.

"I don't trust you," he said bluntly. Artemis' face fell flat.

"Any particular reason?" She folded her arms, narrowing her eyes.

"I don't trust _anyone_," he continued, "who laughs at Robin's jokes."

"Is that… Wonderful-speak for 'I don't trust anyone who wipes the floor with me in a fight?'" She sneered at him.

"What?" Robin interjected, looking far too excited for it to be considered even vaguely normal. "Who wiped the floor with _who_?"

"Nobody!" Wally barked. "None of your business!"

"Anyway," Artemis said breezily, "what'd you say your name was again, Kid Blockhead? Because 'the Wonderful Wallace West' is kind of a mouthful."

"That's his stage name," Robin quipped, and Wally kicked him.

"You can—" Wally's face screwed up with effort at keeping the sentence vaguely civil. "_Call me Wally_. But only in emergencies."

"What do I call you otherwise?" Artemis asked sarcastically. Wally's cheeks puffed indignantly and he bristled.

"Okay!" he shouted, leaning sharply forward – Artemis didn't flinch, staring him down with harshness. "Listen here, you – you – faust! Just because I _let you get away_ because I'm a _gentleman_ doesn't mean that you can just waltz right on in here and replace Speedy, and it doesn't mean you can talk to everyone like you're the queen of Sheba!"

"Actually," Robin piped up, "you're the only one she's really doing that to, soooo..."

"We – we don't need any _attitude_ around here, got that? We bust our conks on this team, and don't think that everything'll just be smooth sailing! We have our own set-up here, and we don't _need_ some stuck-up, hincty, frompy little—"

"_Wally_," Kaldur interrupted sharply, stepping forward and gently pushing the speedster three steps back from Artemis. "She is our teammate. You must treat her with respect."

"Like hell!" Wally exclaimed, shooting Artemis a disgusted look. "Look at her, Kal!"

"Need me to do a turnaround for inspection, Kid? You gonna pat me down?" Artemis snarled. "Hey, if it's any consolation, you're the funniest guy on this team! Never had a better laugh in my life!"

"You—_argh_! Can you turn into a boy for a second so I can hit you?" Wally was struggling against Kaldur's blocking arm, flailing rabidly at Artemis.

"You don't scare me," Artemis hissed, glowering viciously at him. "But hey, if you wanna pretend that you do, be my guest, pretty boy!"

"Stop this! Both of you!" Kaldur ordered, and both Wally and Artemis loosened, frowning shamefully at the carpet. Robin was giggling with little restraint, and M'gann looked intensely worried.

"Oh, no," the Martian whispered. "Please don't hate each other."

There was a drawn-out pause in which Artemis reluctantly reestablished eye contact with Wally, which did nothing more than further accentuate the burbling bitterness in his chest. It could be considered unfortunate, he supposed, that all he saw when he looked at this girl was the smug vigilante who had humiliated him beyond recovery, and her self-sufficient attitude and egotistical sarcasm were not helping matters.

Roughly, he shouldered Kaldur's halting hand off of his back and huffed, eyes flicking with unimpressed dislike over Artemis' form.

"Sorry, sweet cheeks, but not even you can get me to like _this_ – creature," he snapped, and, without another word, turned sharply on his heel and rocketed out of the room.

"Uh-oh, somebody's mad," Robin sang mischievously. "Super speed indoors. That's a big no-no. Are you gonna ground him, Kal?"

Kaldur sighed in response, pinching the bridge of his nose. Nobody noticed the fleeting expression of something like regret on Artemis' face before Superboy cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped forward, stiffly extending one enormous hand.

"Superboy," he grunted.

If the fact that they had all reverted to introductions relieved Artemis, she didn't show it but for the wan smile with which she shook Superboy's hand briefly.

"Yeah," she answered. "Um. Hi."

Superboy nodded and, after a moment, sighed.

"Wally's an idiot," he stated. Robin nodded vigorously in agreement. "So. On his behalf. We're – uh, sorry."

Artemis blinked and sighed, nodding.

"Right. Thanks."

Superboy squinted at her for a moment longer before M'gann spoke up shyly.

"Do you know what I do when—"

"When Wally acts like a complete arlo to you? Nope!" Robin answered.

"Robin, be quiet and let her talk."

"When... I'm upset?" M'gann finished cautiously, tilting her head to look at Artemis. "I get ice cream!"

Artemis blinked skeptically at her and the frowning boy, rendered speechless by the statement.

"Ice cream?" she finally managed to eke out barely, eyebrows lowering in skepticism.

M'gann beamed.

"Yes! Ice cream heals all wounds, from what I've observed."

"I wouldn't go that far."

All heads whirled in the direction of the doorway, in which Batman had suddenly reappeared, blinking at them with a disgruntled expression. He folded his arms.

"However," he grumbled, "that's not a terrible idea."

Whatever vaguely panicked hand was beginning to clench around Artemis's hand was now full-out throttling it, and she gaped unabashedly at Batman.

"Well, cold day in hell!" she declared. "The Batman approves of ice cream."

"It might be good for team-building if you went out and…" Batman began before glowering, as if attempting to process the impending ridiculousness that was about to come out of his mouth. "Retrieved. Ice cream rations."

The silence that followed his suggestion could not have been cut through with a hatchet, but thankfully, Robin chose to kick it to pieces with a punctuating giggle.

"And people wonder if the Bats has a sense of humor!" he cackled, snorting behind his fist. Batman did not seem to share his amusement.

"There's a vendor who usually habits the next block over," Batman expounded bluntly. "He's usually there until around six o'clock—"

"You've _got_ to be pulling my leg," Artemis interrupted, and everyone glanced charily at her as she stared down Batman with little reservation. "I'm not going to—good _Lord_. You people are nuts!"

"Ooh, speaking of nuts, I love 'em! Get me something with nuts, will ya?" Robin asked, elbowing her playfully. She looked offended at the contact.

"Look, I've already said, I'm here to beat up some bad guys, not get ice cream for a bunch of _idiots_ like that – that nuclear scientist redhead—"

"I'd hardly call Wally a nuclear scientist," Robin commented dryly. "Maybe a nuclear dummy."

"Don't think that agreeing with me will save you," Artemis snapped over her shoulder at the shorter boy before returning her gaze to Batman, folding her arms defiantly. "I didn't sign a _contract_. I don't have to stay here."

"But you will," Batman said frankly before brushing past her and heading for the exit, cape flapping. Artemis gaped after him wordlessly. "I'd stay, but I have some business to attend to in Gotham. I'll see all of you tomorrow morning at five o'clock sharp in the debriefing room."

"Which room is that?" Superboy whispered to M'gann. She shrugged, bewildered.

Batman vanished around the corner of the hallway, and everyone's attention was redirected to the still-baffled Artemis, who was staring slack-jawed at the empty space that he had just occupied.

Kaldur cleared his throat politely, and Artemis's eyes jerked over to him with instinctive defensiveness that quickly evaporated as she regained a hold of herself.

"I'm _not_ getting you ice cream," she growled at the four of them.

"I like mint," Robin piped up, grinning from one protruding ear to the other.

"I don't care what you like!" Artemis yelled, glaring murderously down at the Boy Wonder with a stuck-out lower lip. "And there is no way that I'm just going to waltz outside _in my costume_ to buy a bunch of ice cream for you squares!"

* * *

><p>In some ways, the expression with which the ice cream vendor had stared at her was worth the bizarreness of the entire situation. Artemis now stood in the center of the den, arms laden with various treats of the frozen variety, visage akin to that of a murderous alley cat.<p>

"I'm _back_," she snarled out viciously to the empty room. M'gann, rummaging through the refrigerator, perked up and flew immediately over, cheeks high with delight, and Superboy followed her apprehensively.

It didn't take long for the others to appear (conveniently, Artemis might have added), filing in behind the couch. Artemis glowered at the bundle in her hands.

"I didn't really know what you all liked, so I just kind of…" she began, but was cut off by the loud, obtrusive entrance of a certain red-haired speedster, who screeched to a halt at her shoulder, practically sniffing at the ice cream. She recoiled, making a face.

"I _thought_ I smelled something extremely delicious!" he cried, shooting her a look. "Not meaning you."

"Thanks for clarifying, Mr. Wonderful."

"Enough," Kaldur interjected – Artemis was starting to wonder whether that was the only word he knew. His expression of firmness loosened into one of appreciation and amusement. "It was very kind of you to procure these for us, Artemis."

"Like I had a choice, Gills," Artemis retorted, rummaging through the pile in her arms. Her skin was going numb. "Anyway, here's yours. Hope you like pistachio."

"I do. Thank you." Kaldur took the bar with a smile and retreated over to the couch, sitting down carefully.

"And, uh, some mint chocolate chip for the half-pint…" Robin snatched his prize from Artemis's hand before she was even finished lifting it. "Ice cream sandwich for Muscles over there, vanilla for the Martian…"

"Thank you so much!" M'gann exclaimed, taking the vanilla popsicle with reverence. Superboy followed suit with a tight frown, grimacing at the cold feel of the frosted-over container of chocolate.

"And…" Artemis produced a sealed container and sighed. "Orange sherbert for Kid Blockhead in the back."

She chucked the object toward the obliviously whistling speedster, but, despite his apparent lack of awareness, he caught it in a blur and popped it open, beaming at the contents.

"My favourite! Thanks, beautiful; I—" His existence seemed to screech to a halt as he remembered precisely who he was talking to, and his face readopted the grouchy frown that it had abandoned. "I—don't know how you got this information, but you'll pay!"

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice," Artemis grumbled. Wally ignored her, already having zipped into the kitchen and back to retrieve a spoon.

"Okay. I'll let you off easy. Since you got me my favourite ice cream, I'll _deign_ to offer you a truce," Wally told her haughtily from a mouthful of ice cream.

"Truce for _what_?" Robin exclaimed incredulously, rolling his eyes.

"Man, you're pretty far up on that high horse of yours." Artemis cocked and eyebrow at the rapidly eating boy. "Jeez, can't you stop scarfing that stuff for two seconds?"

"Your chances at redemption are _slipping_, my lovely." Wally brandished the spoon in her general direction.

Artemis jerked her chin at him, again in hopes of goading him, but he was so preoccupied by the ice cream that he didn't even notice.

"He might've just been cranky earlier because he was hungry," Robin whispered to Artemis. She rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm not letting what he said slide. I'm going to knock him down a few pegs."

"Ohoho, that's what you think. Many a dame have said those words!" Robin held the spoon between his lips as he pawed through his pockets for a handkerchief. "Actually, no. I'm pretty sure you're the first dame to ever even glance in his general direction."

"Maggie doesn't seem to mind him," Artemis observed grumpily. The Martian girl was squealing as she daintily downed a spoonful of vanilla, eyes bright.

"I've never had ice cream before!" she cried with glee.

Superboy poked his. "Is it dangerous?"

"Dangerously delicious, my friend!" Wally called.

"M'gann doesn't mind anybody," Robin muttered with a smirk. Artemis let out a huff.

"What'd I do to him? Save his rear? Forgive me my sins," she recited sarcastically to the ceiling.

"Oh, he just isn't used to girls who aren't – well, girls. In the loosest sense of the word."

"Think he ever will be?" Artemis asked.

Robin, after a pensive moment, nodded.

"Yeah, I'd say so. And hey, I didn't get the chance to say this earlier, but… welcome to the team."

"Not on the team yet. I still need to prove my worth or whatever, during tomorrow's mission."

"Well, I'll be rooting for you," Robin assured her, not sounding reassuring in the slightest. "Now, if you'll excuse me, mingling calls."

He darted over to join the others, laughing along with them at a joke he had not heard. Artemis loitered in the corner by the radio, not even cheered by the dulcet tones of Frank Sinatra crackling out, and attempted to conjure some sort of concluding thought, some useful observation, about the ragtag team of heroes clustered in front of her. She couldn't. That was what bothered her.

She heard a clap of thunder outside and jumped. Wally leered at he reaction but paid her no further heed, instead gazing longingly at M'gann for the rest of the evening. When Artemis finally retreated into her room as the hours grew late, she tried to decided whether she _liked_ being ignored or didn't. She couldn't figure that out, either – not before she fell asleep in the most comfortable bed she'd slept in in months. Her sleep was dreamless and when she stumbled out of bed the next morning at five, she had to drag herself out of the stale oneiric blandness she'd gotten accustomed to.


	6. Chapter Four: Denial, Part Two

**Okay, so this chapter became _huge_ and I had no choice but to break it up into smaller parts. The _Denial_ arc will now last for three parts! Part Three should be up soon-ish; I'm still working out the kinks, but it'll be here!**

**Oh, and while I'm here, I wanna bring something up: a couple of people have asked me if this will be primarily a Wally/Artemis story. Not at all! Superboy/M'gann will be getting lots of attention starting in Chapter Six or so, and Dick and Babs will be all over the place starting around Chapter Seven. And there will be _plenty_ of interludes to develop all of these relationships.**

**That's what the interludes are for! They'll be giving each and every character a day in the limelight, so keep an eye on them. The next one will involve Wally's alto-saxophone playing. Yes, you heard right. Barry taught him how to play in this, uh. This universe? CAN I CALL IT THAT?**

**All right, enough of my yammering. I hope you like!**

**DISCLAIMER: I claim no ownership to or affiliation with _Young Justice_. This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four:<strong>

_**Denial, Part Two**_

* * *

><p>"You know, Rick, I have many a friend in Casablanca, but somehow, just because you despise me, you are the only one I trust."<p>

— Casablanca (1942)

* * *

><p><strong>Mount Justice<strong>  
><strong>April 2, 1941 – 5:31 AM<strong>

Wally was not accustomed to being conscious at any point between 3:00 AM and 7:00 AM. In fact, 3:00 AM was probably pushing it. He was also unaccustomed to having his first sight upon awakening be a girl, if the harpy whose enraged face was currently impeding his field of vision could be considered anywhere close to a girl.

"Get up," Artemis snarled, and Wally gave an undignified yelp, flailing off the bed, tangled clumsily in the sheets.

Artemis straightened crisply, sneering down at him, and switched on the bright bedside lamp. Wally groaned loudly.

"You're half an hour overdue for the mission assignment, numbskull," she growled. "I don't know why Batman wanted _me_ to wake you up; Robin could've—"

"Get out," Wally mumbled, stumbling precariously to his feet and shaking off the blankets.

"My pleasure," Artemis retorted with venom, striding to the door. Wally tried to ignore the flattering cut of her skirt, and only then did he truly register the fact that she was wearing civilian clothes – that this was the first time he had seen her without a mask covering her face. "And you're _welcome_, by the way."

"Ouuuuut," Wally whined, but Artemis punctuated the end of his complaint with a slam of the door that made the empty bookshelves rattle.

Wally blew a raspberry at the door and pulled a face before begrudgingly getting dressed, shoving on the mustard-colored sweater that Aunt Iris had knitted him for Christmas and haphazardly combing his hair before making a high-speed dash for the mission room.

He flailed to a stop through the doorway, still bleary-eyed. The murderous glare from Batman managed to partially bring him to his coherent senses, assisted by the sour frowns of Robin and Superboy.

"He awakens," Artemis mocked sarcastically from her spot beside Kaldur in the line gathered in the center of the room. "Too slow, Kid Moron, too slow."

"Once I wake up, I'll come up with a crushing reply—"

"Get over there," Batman growled, shoving Wally into line beside Artemis.

"Watch it, Twinkle-Toes!" the archer snapped when Wally collided with her shoulder, knocking her into Kaldur.

"Maybe _you_ should watch where you're standing!" he yelled, straightening up with a rebelliously tilted chin that made her roll her eyes and push him away, causing him to stumble again. "And for the record, only human beings can touch me."

"Will you shut that running mouth of yours for five seconds so we can actually—"

"What's the beef, Batman? Now that Kid Naptime's with us," Robin interrupted with blatant excitement.

"Kent Nelson. Formerly known as Doctor Fate," Batman expounded curtly. "He's missing."

"Doesn't sound like much of a mission to me," Wally muttered dryly aside to Artemis, who looked nothing short of disgusted at the fact that he was interacting with her. "The old guy probably just wandered off looking for his dentures and can't remember where he is."

"Shhh," Artemis hissed, whacking him upside the head and ignoring the grumbles of protest from him.

"Missing from where?" Robin inquired.

"We're not sure," Batman answered anticlimactically. "Our best guess is his safe house, the Tower of Fate, somewhere in Salem, Massachusetts. We aren't sure where specifically to find it."

Wally couldn't help himself.

"Uh, this might be just me, but I feel like a _giant tower_ would be kinda hard to miss—"

"The Tower is protected by a multitude of spells, one of which renders it invisible to both the naked eye and to any kind of radar," Batman interjected tetchily. Wally balked, but only until the words registered with him.

"..._Spells_?" he repeated incredulously.

Robin dropped his head into one hand in something like sorrow. "Oh, boy, here we go."

M'gann blinked. "What?"

"Wally's a skeptic," Robin explained conspiratorially. "He..."

"Okay," Wally said, raising one compelling finger. "Everything that needs to be said here can be summed up in six simple words: _there's _–_ no_ – _such – thing – as_—"

"Wally," M'gann exclaimed with wide, hurt eyes. "You... don't believe?"

There was a tangible silence as Wally blinked and stared at her for a moment.

"No," he finally said. "No, I don't."

"Regardless of _what_," Batman continued threateningly, "_something_ is keeping the Tower from being accessed by any outsiders. It'll be your job to fix that and find it – _and_ Nelson. We're almost completely certain that where the Tower is, Nelson is."

"How are _we_ supposed to find it if the League can't?" Artemis asked with raised eyebrows.

"You'll manage," Batman muttered. "That's the purpose of this team. Perhaps the Tower will trust one of you."

"_Trust_ one of us?" Wally squawked. "I don't _belie_—"

"Shut up, Wally," Artemis snapped.

Wally bristled furiously, eyes growing wide with rage.

"Now _look_—!"

"Both of you, stop this now," Kaldur ordered, speaking for the first time since Wally had entered the room. "I urge you to at least hold on to a _semblance_ of professionalism."

"Tell her to pack her bags and I'll be happy to oblige!" Wally growled. Artemis scoffed.

"Oh, _please_. Don't make me kick your can in front of Batman."

"Oh, I'd _love_ to see you try! Give it your best shot, She-Devil!"

"Don't mind if I do!" Artemis shouted, rolling up her sleeves.

"All right!" Batman shouted, causing all in the room to stiffen and freeze, even the fretful-looking M'gann. "You two." Wally and Artemis straightened under his discerning gaze. "After this mission, I'll need to speak with the both of you. Consider yourselves deployed, Team. Good luck."

He turned sharply on his heel and stalked out of the room, cape flapping ominously. After a moment, all angry faces turned to the still-scowling Wally and Artemis, whose eyes were locked into each other's like melded metals.

"Mary," Robin declared nonchalantly. All heads whipped in his direction and he shrugged apathetically. "Just suggesting baby names."

"Put a sock in it, half-pint!" Wally snapped, folding his arms cantankerously. "Okay. So how are we supposed to do this Nelson-finding junk? Batman didn't give us that many pointers."

"Maybe if you'd gotten here on time, you'd have heard something useful, _Wallace_," Artemis told him furiously. She turned to the others. "I don't want to have to constantly explain things to this dweeb; I'm just saying."

"He catches on quickly most of the time," Robin muttered with a quirked smirk.

"Hey, Rob, do me a huge favor here," Wally said with limited patience. "_Explain to me_ why we're letting some snobby brat butt into our setup here and come with us on this important mission. Give me _one reason_."

"Oh, _I_ can answer that better than he can," Artemis murmured, flicking one finger against Wally's nose obnoxiously. "It's simple. I beat you in a fight. And you seem to be a valuable asset, so if I can do better than _you_ can, I've got potential, right?"

"Drop it, will you?" Wally protested.

"Oh, the way I dropped you onto the ground and wiped it with you like a mop? I'd be happy to!"

"Stop," Superboy groaned, pressing a hand to one of his temples. "You're giving me a headache."

"We'll take Sestra," M'gann said meekly, sending Wally a somewhat sad glance. "The journey should only take a couple of hours or so; she is fast."

"It is very considerate of you to offer her, M'gann; thank you." Kaldur nodded gratefully before heading in the direction of the hangar.

The others followed him, but Robin grabbed onto Wally's sleeve, pulling him back.

"What?" Wally snapped, pinching a glower down at the diminutive boy, who returned the expression with gusto.

"Oh, nothing, really. Just wondering if it would be too much trouble for you to act like a civilized human being for a second," he hissed, causing Wally's eyes to widen.

"What d'you mean?"

"_Artemis_," Robin replied as if it was perfectly obvious. "What problem do you have with her, anyway?"

"She's just—" Wally huffed, shoulders loosening, and Robin released his sleeve. "I don't like her attitude. She's barely been here a day and she's already acting like she's better than everyone else. Like she doesn't need anybody – y'know, like she's just here for herself. It really gets under my skin." He paused and sighed, cramming his hands into his pockets. "I feel like… maybe if somebody knocked her down a peg, she wouldn't be so bad."

"You really should give her a break," Robin muttered adamantly. "She's... well, let's just say it's good that she's on our side."

"Oh, jeez; I should've known," Wally groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. "You've already got all of the dirt on here, I'm guessing?"

"Well, _yeah_," Robin answered haughtily, smirking. "Not that I'll be telling _you_ anytime soon."

Wally ruffled his friend's hair despite the Boy Wonder's irked outcries, and the two jogged to catch up to the rest of the team in the hangar.

* * *

><p>Artemis sat frowning in the bioship, her arms folded pensively. M'gann leaned cautiously over to her, glancing around suspiciously to ensure that the boys – who were settling into their seats – weren't listening before speaking.<p>

"Are you all right?" she whispered. Artemis gave a start and cocked a skeptical eyebrow at her before sighing.

"Um. Yes, yeah; I will be. Why?" she demanded.

"Oh – nothing. It's just... I'm sorry that Wally's being so rude to you," M'gann told her earnestly. Artemis blinked, looking genuinely surprised. "I don't understand what's wrong with him; he was never that way to me."

"That's because you're pretty," Artemis muttered in the back of her mouth before turning her head away.

Wally and Robin picked that exact moment to clatter into the ship and flop into their seats, babbling about baseball. Artemis closed her eyes for patience and the ship took off without a sound.

The fact that the six had left the Cave – and been forced out of bed – at such an early hour showed blatantly through the four boys, each of whom was asleep half an hour into the flight. The winter morning sky remained a light shade of gray outside, still permitting a few stars, and Artemis stared out the window at the tops of the mist-dusted trees below them, at the night-tinted hilltops. Wally snored loudly and mumbled something about being wary of half-price vegetables.

"Would you permit me to say something?"

Artemis jumped at the meek sound of the words that stumbled haplessly out of the Martian girl's mouth and turned sharply to look at her, lifting her chin out of her upturned palm.

M'gann's soft hands were spread-eagled across the glowing steering orbs, and though her eyes were focused on the floor, the ship still flew with precision through the air.

"Sure," Artemis finally replied, returning her gaze to the window.

M'gann swallowed, and the sound was dry and artificial.

"Perhaps – _maybe_ if… if you and Wally hadn't… gotten off on the incorrect foot…"

"The wrong foot," Artemis muttered.

"Right. Yes. Maybe if you and Wally hadn't gotten off… on the wrong foot, then… then things would be different," M'gann rambled gently. "That is, maybe – you should give him a chance. He is not – he isn't so bad. Really. He's just…"

"Look, Mag. If you want the truth, I couldn't get along with that guy's toothbrush. It doesn't matter what foot we got off on; he hates me, so I'll hate him back. It's that simple."

"I don't think that Wally is truly capable of hating _any_body," M'gann insisted kindly. "I think that he can just… misinterpret the way he feels. Overblow it, for the sake of clarity. And perhaps if you two were kinder to each other, then you could… have a something."

"A something?" Artemis repeated flatly.

"Well – yes!" M'gann beamed, sounding slightly more confident. "You're so full of _passion_, and he's so full of… uh…" She glanced over at the speedster's lolling form, at the drool trailing down his chin. "Of…"

"It?" Artemis suggested with a wry smile, and the two girls looked at each other for a moment before happily giggling to themselves.

"What about… you annnnd…" Artemis glanced around the ship at the roster. "You and Robin. You seem close."

M'gann's eyes widened.

"Me and – and _Robin_? Oh, no. No, we aren't… he is just…" She lowered her eyes, biting her lip. "I believe that… here on Earth, he would be called my… my best friend."

Artemis looked surprised.

"Best friends? Really?"

"Well, in the sense that – that he has always been there for me. He has been kind. And he makes me smile and feel like I belong, and belonging is good; that is what I'm here for." Her tone was quickening.

"And Superboy?" Artemis asked cautiously.

M'gann's shoulders tensed and the bioship gave a noticeable shudder.

Artemis grinned.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed. M'gann shushed her, chuckling to herself.

"Be _quiet_; you'll wake them," she murmured with a giggle. Wally snorted and Robin muttered something about rabbits before shifting.

"Aww. Poor _babies_," Artemis said sarcastically in a cooing voice, and she and M'gann continued to laugh behind their hands, highly amused by the fitful twitching of Superboy, the almost elderly snores of Wally, the ceaseless muttering of Robin, and the stony stillness of Kaldur.

"I wouldn't wanna be stuck with one of them; would you?" Artemis asked, snickering.

M'gann's eyes twinkled as she shook her head, still beaming brightly. Their giggling eventually trailed off into contented silence as even Artemis began to doze, and M'gann's thoughts were left to wander amongst themselves.

Eventually, the dark outline of Salem shifted over the horizon, and M'gann was enthralled by the pale yellow rise of the sun over the erected silhouettes, the slow dissolve of the stars. The sky was turning a light bloom of purple, and M'gann, in spite of herself, opened a hatch on the roof above her to let in the crisp morning air.

Artemis stirred with a shiver at the breeze and yawned, sitting up immediately.

"We here?" she mumbled.

"Yes." M'gann closed her eyes against the wind cascading onto her. A mischievous smile curled over her lips. "Would you like to wake them up?"

Artemis's face took on a wide, diabolical grin, and the sharp edges of her eyes seemed keener than before.

"If you insist," she replied with little beyond absolute relish. She turned ominously toward the four seats in front of them and inhaled deeply before roaring, "_BOYS_!"

Kaldur's eyes lifted without a single flinch, but the other three were not so composed. Wally and Robin both yelped and flailed, and M'gann telepathically tightened their seat belts to keep them from toppling out of their chairs; Superboy instinctively punched the air with a defensive yell. Artemis did little to contain her snorts of laughter, which only seemed to worsen Wally's already ornery mood.

"Can't a guy get a little sleep around here?" he demanded, glowering at her. She shrugged.

"You slept for _two hours_, Kid Slobber," she retorted. "I think you'll be okay."

"It was my fault, Wally," M'gann said meekly. "That is, I suggested it. Don't be angry at her."

Wally threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"That's like asking Batman not to be angry at – well, _anyone_," he declared dramatically, which caused M'gann's eyes to roll fondly.

"Let's just land," Superboy snapped. "I've heard enough of you two already."

"Um, of course!" M'gann exclaimed hastily, closing her eyes to concentrate on slowing and lowering the ship to the ground. Its invisible surface swirled against the sky as it landed.

"Never ceases to be amazing," Robin commented, smiling over his shoulder at the Martian girl. M'gann returned the visage.

"She certainly doesn't," Wally agreed distantly, grinning goofily at M'gann, who remained perfectly oblivious.

Artemis mimed a gag, making choking noises. Wally's eyes narrowed dangerously at her.

"The ship!" he insisted. "Which, by default, is – a she."

"This seems to be the area indicated by Batman for us to search for the Tower of Fate," Kaldur interjected calmly, staring out the window at the lightening ground beneath them.

"I don't _see_ any tower," Wally grumbled.

"Of course you don't. Magic, remember?" Artemis huffed.

Wally scoffed at her, but said nothing as he stood out of his seat and filed out into the cold night behind the others.

He ground his teeth and folded his arms for warmth when the frigid air blasted into him, and he wished he'd brought a jacket. Artemis, M'gann, and Kaldur seemed unfazed.

"H-How're you not f-freezing?" Wally demanded of the archer, nodding down at her knee-high socks.

She shrugged wordlessly and he abandoned the conversation, shuffling forward.

The area in which they had landed was nothing short of depressing, a seemingly abandoned area of crumbling brick buildings and a distant makeshift junkyard. Broken glass glittered on the ground in the burgeoning sunlight.

One of the buildings had a tattered sign that indicated it was a theater of sorts, but no one felt the urge to investigate. Another had an enormous hole torn through the front of it, as if by a demolition ball. Nearly any and all windows were broken, and weeds twisted up from the dirt like bones.

"You sure this is the right place?" Wally asked cynically, jaw tight from the temperature. Even Robin seemed skeptical.

"I am sure," M'gann confirmed cautiously, fiddling with her fingernails. "I sensed it. Sestra sensed it. She had to move out of the way to avoid it."

"It is here," Kaldur stated calmly. He stepped several paces forward and the others straggled in his wake as he stopped in front of a large, empty area. "She is right."

He reached into the pocket of his slacks and produced a glittering gold key. Wally was astounded at the sight of it.

"Where'd you get that?" he exclaimed.

Robin snickered.

"From Batman," he said mischievously.

"You had not yet been awakened," Kaldur expounded bluntly, stepping forward to the vast empty space before them. Wally thought he heard an alley cat yowling and grimaced.

"Well, I'm sure it'll come in handy if we actually _find_ the—"

Wally began his sentence cynically before a swelling sound like a mountain moving erupted from in front of the group.

Suddenly, the staggering shadow of a tower vanishing up into the fog formed around the key that Kaldur had earlier seemed to have inserted into thin air. It was made entirely of brownish bricks, hewn into the shape of a square turret, and there was no apparent entrance or exit but for the oakwood door creaking into existence in front of Kaldur.

"Oh my _G_…" Artemis croaked as her head moved gradually back until she was gazing slack-jawed up at the building.

"Definitely overwhelmed," Robin added, eyes huge behind the sunglasses. "How'd you even _find_ it, Kal?"

"I looked," Kaldur replied simply before straining and pulling open the great wooden door. "Come. And remain alert."

The others nodded in understanding, and no one took notice when M'gann began walking just a bit closer to Superboy, nor when Artemis reached surreptitiously inside her sweater to lightly clench her compact crossbow.

They came into a dim, doorless and windowless room lit by an uncanny gold light with no apparent source. It fumbled along the bricks as the door through which they had all cautiously walked very suddenly closed behind them.

"Not terribly reassuring, I have to say," Robin muttered dryly.

Wally would have added another piece of banter to Robin's if, out of nowhere, a filmy figure had not materialized in the center of the room, causing him to yell and leap back.

"Whoa!" Robin exclaimed. Artemis whipped out the crossbow and aimed it instinctively at the figure's forehead, but faltered after a second.

It was an old man. He was tall, his back straight; he was dressed in a distinguished black suit. His face was roughly hewn like a mountain by wind, and his uncanny blue eyes were keen, but his expression was somber. One wizened hand rested on a gold-topped cane.

"_Who_–?" Superboy rasped.

"Greetings, visitors," the man said, causing the six teens to jump. "You have entered with a key, but I'm afraid you aren't known to the Tower. Now don't fret; just state why you're here and you can go on your merry way."

M'gann collected herself first.

"We…" she began hesitantly, but Wally stepped forward.

"Don't sweat it, Sweet Cheeks," he said to her with a grin, ignoring the hissing of Artemis. He turned to the projection and beamed. "We're here on a mission to check up on Doctor Fate!"

The figure seemed to consider him before giving a vaguely disappointed face and promptly vanishing into the surface of the suddenly dimming light.

No one had the chance to speak before the brick floor beneath them crumbled and they began to fall.

A yell ripped out of Wally's chest as he plummeted with the others down the dark pit, his shirt flapping. He saw M'gann catch herself, floating above them like a burgeoning hot air balloon with a desperate expression; Artemis's cracking screams were echoing from somewhere beside him and he could hear Robin shouting something. The wind ripping up through his ears shattered any hope of distinction.

The rapidly increasing distance between him and M'gann was filled by her sharp thoughts in his mind.

_Everyone straighten your legs and hold your breath!_ she commanded. _There is deep water at the bottom of the—_

"What?" Wally yelped, but the impact of something impenetrably liquid on his back silenced him, the crushing swell of the bubbles and foam driving him down into darkness.

His heart thudded horribly as he sank, arms scrambling feebly for the vastly vanishing surface. The muffled bursts of the others hitting the water boomed dully around him.

_I c—_he thought desperately, not even sure if they could hear him. _Help. I c—I can't sw—im…_

M'gann's thoughts shrieked something incomprehensible, and Wally thought he saw her racing silhouette diving toward him through the blackening edges of his vision. His kicking limbs slowed, and he felt his eyes drop indolently shut as the air crawled out from his lungs.

_I really need to lay off the dying_, he thought weakly.

Dimly, he felt two strong arms hook under his shoulders, two feet rhythmically kicking toward the surface behind him, but he was not breathing; his lungs, like his arms and legs, were heavy and useless and numb from exertion.

He felt the water roll in stinging whorls off his face as he and his rescuer broke the surface, and the oxygen tumbling into his gulping lungs caused him to wheeze and choke, more water dribbling out of his mouth. Still, the arms held him up, unyielding.

"Is he okay?" _Robin_, he thought, stroking toward them and rustling the water. "The idiot can't swim!"

"Wally?" That was M'gann, but she didn't seem to be the one holding him because his dully wandering eyes distinguished her red hair hovering above him.

"Wally?" Three fingers on his neck, directly on his pulse, with webbing between them. "He is all right. But we must get somewhere dry to make sure."

"'m fine," Wally mumbled. No one heard him.

"And how're we supposed to do that?" Superboy demanded. "Those walls are solid; I checked! And there aren't any doors. We're trapped here until we drown."

"The floor we fell through seems to have mended itself," M'gann added half-heartedly.

"Where'd we go wrong?" Robin mused bitterly, treading water. "We said we were here for the Doc, and it was the truth."

"_Ahoj, M'gann_!" The Martian girl's clear tones rang out, drawing all gazes to her. She popped a head against her forehead, smiling with realization. "We said we were here for _Doctor Fate_. Of _course_!"

She reared her head up to the ceiling and cried, "We were sent here by the Justice League to make sure Kent Nelson is safe!"

Almost immediately, Wally became aware of the water surrounding him draining, and his feet touched solid ground in mere seconds, as if he had just been floating inches above it. His lame knees buckled underneath him and he plopped back on his rear – the arms, at last, released him. Kaldur, Superboy, and Robin all stood easily, and M'gann floated gently down to join them.

Wally coughed and wiped his nose. "By the way, Kal, thanks for saving my behind in that water! What would I…"

His voice trailed off. Kaldur was several feet in front of him, ignoring him completely – even the others were all scattered far too sporadically to have been near enough to him to have held him up.

He heard a spluttering behind him and turned to see Artemis leaning against the wall, shoulders shuddering, face ashen, coughing up water. His eyes widened.

"It was… oh," he said blankly. Artemis grimaced, wiping her forehead with a shaking hand. Wally frowned. "Uh, you okay there?"

"Don't like water," she croaked back. "I hope you were worth the trouble."

Wally thought for a moment before bemusedly saying, "Thanks." He paused. "But don't think this means I forgive you for – for _anything_!"

Artemis managed to right herself and shot him a look he couldn't decipher, somewhere between a sneer and an indifferent frown.

"Yeah, wouldn't dream of it," she answered dismissively, striding forward to join the others. Wally hopped to his feet and followed her.

"Really, though. Why?" he asked curiously. "I mean, it's not like you're the water-infused powerhouse around here…"

"I was just closer, all right?" Artemis snapped. "I just… got there first. Anyway, it's not important."

Putting an end to the conversation, Robin strode over to stand beside Wally with a grin that did little to reveal his relief.

"Have a nice bath there, old chum?" he asked briskly, nudging Wally, who copied him.

"Oh, indubitably."

Only then did he bother to take in the remainder of the room that the water had left them in – it seemed, at best, to simply be the base of the Tower pit, with the same dusty glow and the same uniform brick walls devoid of doors or windows. He thought he could smell rain and pine needles, but he was sure that such a thing was impossible: how could there be a rainy forest inside a tower?

"There are two doors here," Kaldur informed them decisively, running one hand along the wall.

"How can you tell?" Superboy asked, bewildered.

"I felt grooves in the walls – spaces beyond the surfaces," Kaldur explained dismissively.

He hooked two fingers into an indentation and pulled, and a door opened – a door beyond which there was—

"Snow?" Artemis exclaimed. The others were stunned into silence, but teeth began to chatter as a flurry of frigid snowflakes blew out into the room.

Past the now-open doorway was a vast landscape of bleak arctic tundra, with enormous silver mountains jutting up into a dark gray sky and thick snow completely encroaching the ground. There was what seemed to be a blizzard occurring inside it, which was bursting out through the opening created by the door.

Kaldur moved to the area of wall opposite the icy lands and pulled open another door. This one led into a dimly lit hallway with dark teal walls.

"Dibs on the not-cold one!" Wally declared, dashing toward the hall.

"How're we gonna do this? We splitting up?" Robin asked, glancing at Kaldur. The Atlantean considered this.

"We may—"

"Rob and I'll go this way!" Wally decided, grabbing the Boy Wonder's wrist and dragging him toward the hallway despite his entailing yelps of surprise.

"Actually," Kaldur interjected sternly, "perhaps it will be best if you and _Artemis_ explore that doorway, and if M'gann, Superboy, and myself take the one with the snow."

"What?" Wally squawked. Artemis was still wringing water out of her mane of hair and stared apathetically at the others.

"What about me?" Robin inquired indignantly, wrestling out of Wally's grasp. "And who put you in charge in the first place?"

Kaldur considered this for a good few moments, taking in Robin's words, gaze flicking over his suddenly bristling demeanor.

"I am sorry," he finally said. "I did not intend to make it seem as though I was flaunting authority that I do not have. I had simply been voicing my opinion, and you all chose to accept it and follow my suggestions." He paused. "But… if you will permit me to say this: I do not believe that this is a good time to debate leadership; do you? We could take this matter up when we returned to the Cave."

Robin swallowed something down, and his bitter expression loosened very slightly, along with his tense pose. He let out a sharp sigh.

"Fine," he muttered. "We'll discuss this after the mission."

No one else said a word. Robin blinked and frowned.

"You didn't answer my question, though," he said. "What do you expect me to do out here?"

Kaldur pondered this, and seemed to reject some earlier decision before exhaling.

"You could go with Wally and Artemis," he suggested.

Robin's face split into a wicked grin.

"Excellent," he approved gleefully, turning to link one of his arms in Artemis's and the other in Wally's, escorting them toward the hallway. "Don't wait up!"

"We ought to reconvene here in half an hour if we fail to find anything," Kaldur called to the three of them. M'gann nodded.

"And I still have our telepathic link working strongly, so we should be able to communicate with each other even though we're in different areas," she added.

"Good." Kaldur nodded. He spared a final glance at Robin, Wally, and Artemis. "Be cautious."

"Wouldn't kill ya to say 'careful,' Kal," Robin quipped with an enthusiastic wink before returning his attention to Wally and Artemis, who were still processing the fact that he was leading them around by the elbows. "Onward, my fellow voyagers! Into the great wide somewhere!"

"Rob, what are you—?" Wally started to say, but Robin was already dragging him and the archer down the hallway, closing the door behind them.

Kaldur shook his head and turned to Superboy and M'gann, who were both gazing expectantly at him.

"Onward, my fellow voyagers," he said in a mocking, high voice. M'gann let out a chuckle and even Superboy permitted himself a snort as the three of them ventured into the arctic lands.

* * *

><p>"Chicago, Chicago, that tottlin' town!"<p>

Wally grimaced as Robin cheerfully belted out the Count Basie tune, and Artemis didn't look much happier. The sound of the Boy Wonder's singing was the only noise in the otherwise dead-quiet hallway. Lamps flickered on the walls, but there were no doors – a recurring architectural theme, Wally thought dryly.

"Aren't _you_ pleased as punch," Artemis said flatly. "Certainly a big change from all that pouting you were doing back in that chamber."

"Why wouldn't I be pleased?" Robin asked with relish, putting his arms around each of their shoulders and hanging between them. Wally was so lanky that his height nearly pulled Robin off the floor. "I'm exploring a drafty old magic-house with my two favourite people in the world!"

"You barely know me!" Artemis snapped, but Robin continued to sing, drowning her out.

"They have the time, the time of their life! I saw a man; he danced with his wife in Chicago, hometown!"

"Cut it out, Rob, will ya?" Wally chided him. "We've got more important things to do than listen to you croon."

"You _wound_ me!" Robin jibed, releasing the two and walking crisply along with his hands in the pockets of his navy cardigan. The brass buttons glinted in the pale light. "But really, I wouldn't miss seeing you two go at each other for the _world_."

"Shut your trap, Boy Wonder," Artemis growled, jabbing a finger in Robin's direction. "Kaldur didn't sent you along so you could start screwing with our brains."

"Who, little old me?" Robin let out a theatrical gasp, pressing a hand to his heart. "Perish the thought!"

"Don't listen to a word he says," Wally grumbled. "Let's just go."

"Again, your words hurt me," Robin lamented. "I _just_ tagged along so we could be _together_."

"Stuff it, you little peola," Artemis grunted. Wally let out a snort.

"Peola," he repeated, amused. "I like it."

Artemis quirked a smile.

"I've got a million of 'em, Kid Salty," she retorted. Wally's face fell into a glare again.

"Ow," he pouted, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Y'know, you're not the only one around here who can insult a person to the moon and back."

"Oh, is that so? Rock me, then, Kiddo," Artemis challenged him, and miraculously, Wally felt more _entertained_ by the imminent exchange than angered.

"Well, for example, you—" he began briskly, but froze when he noticed that Robin was no longer behind them. "Hold up." They stopped. "Where's Rob?"

Any and all worry that was quickly scratching up the sides of his stomach quickly evaporated at the sound of a light, distant cackle that seemed to be echoing from the walls themselves. Wally's shoulders loosened and he rolled his eyes.

"What?" Artemis demanded, still looking fretful. "Where'd he go? Do we need to look for—?"

"He's fine," Wally reassured her tiredly. "He does this _all_ the time. Little creep."

He kept walking along the hallway, and Artemis gave the area behind them one last cautious once-over before hesitantly jogging after him.

"So what's the story with you guys?" she asked, not sounding interested at all as she stretched her arms behind her head.

"Who? Me and Rob?" Wally asked, eyes wide. She nodded. "Oh, uh, I dunno. He's a pal, I guess. My best one. Pal, that is. Friend. Best friend."

Artemis, whose eyes had been closed for her stretching, opened one eyelid to look at him with wriggling amusement.

"Uh-huh," she replied, shaking out her ponytail. Some water splattered down onto the carpet. "And how long has that been going on?"

"Coupla years," Wally answered tersely. "Why?"

"Just curious." She raised her shoulders indifferently before yawning as if bored. "Sooo, d'you think there's anything _in_ this hallway, or is the Tower just leading us on a wild goose chase?"

"The _Tower_ does not _lead_ anything," Wally reminded her grumpily. "The _Tower_ is an inanimate _building_ with… crazy rooms and optical illusions everywhere."

"That's how you explain that huge _landscape_ past the door out there? An optical illusion?" Artemis asked incredulously.

Wally nodded resolutely.

"Must be. Or some kind of… I don't know, active hologram. A trick of the eye, of the light, whatever. Or there could've been something in that water that made us hallucinate."

"Okay, now you're just grasping at sticks," Artemis snapped. "Why don't you believe in magic? You'd _think_ that hanging around a bunch of _superpowered humans_ for a few years would teach you a few things."

"Science," Wally explained bluntly. "All of it's science."

"And what about Zatara? The magician?" Artemis demanded belligerently.

Wally shrugged.

"I dunno. Probably got hit by a meteor or something," he said lamely.

"That's the stupidest excuse I've ever heard," Artemis told him with a laugh. "Seriously, do you just not _want_ to believe in magic? Does it bother you when there's stuff out there that you can't explain?"

"Maybe. Maybe I like knowing how things tick."

"Maybe there are some things that can't _be_ explained that way."

"And maybe you're just trying to get me riled up. Well, good luck!" He turned his head toward her and continued to walk, raising one finger. "I'll have you know that I, Wally West, _always_ expect oncoming trouble, and am able to predict—"

His monologue was cut off when he smashed headlong into a door. He stumbled back as though dazed, and Artemis bit her lip to contain any laughter, but her voice was so choked from it that Wally noticed it anyway.

"Uh. Yes. Absolutely." She stepped forward, and Wally, after nursing his pounding head, squinted suspiciously at the offending object.

A dark wooden door was carved into what seemed to be the end of the hallway, and its golden knob glinted in the light.

"Shall we?" Artemis asked. Wally, still bitterly mortified, only tossed his head around indifferently and glanced away, lower lip protruding. Artemis smirked at him and turned the knob, pulling the door open and walking with confidence through the doorway. Wally followed her immediately.

They had entered what looked to be a parlor, with extraordinarily well-lit walls and comfortable-looking furniture. A grand stone fireplace was at the center of the back wall, and a fire was crackling in its hearth. A grandfather clock stood next to it, ticking away, and over the fireplace was a portrait of a scintillatingly smiling young woman with short, curled red hair and bright blue eyes. Wally gawked up at it.

"Whoa. Pretty good-lookin', for a piece of paper."

Artemis elbowed him.

"What is this place?" she whispered, stepping forward into the center, her Mary Janes sinking into the surface of a rich Indian rug between an armchair and a loveseat. A couple of shelves of books were against the west wall.

"Dunno, but I like it!" Wally said happily, plopping down onto an armchair. Artemis rolled her eyes.

She leaned over to turn on a lamp on a table beside the couch, and suddenly her eyes went wide in something like horror and she let out a ragged gasp, stumbling back. Wally, taken aback by her reaction, strode rapidly over to stand next to her.

"What is it?" he asked, and she wordlessly pointed behind the couch, stepping forward as she did. Wally followed her gesture and knelt beside her on the couch to look over the back, and his stomach dropped unpleasantly.

"So much for being here to see if he's safe," Artemis muttered coldly.

An old man – no, _Kent Nelson_, was splayed out on the floor, unmoving and ashen-faced. His wizened eyes were closed, and his mouth was set into a grim, final line. In one of his limp hands was what looked to be a golden pocket watch.

Wally knew even before Artemis gathered herself enough to check for a pulse that there would be none.

"He's dead," she whispered.

_Artemis! Wally! Robin!_ Wally flinched and put an instinctive hand to his temple, wincing at the sharp sound of M'gann's echoing thoughts. Artemis reacted similarly, groaning. _Where are you? We're engaged in battle with some kind of – he's calling himself a Lord of Chaos, and he's—_

The end of her sentence devolved into an agonized scream, causing Wally to stagger back and fall onto the floor. The sheer, burning presence of it temporarily crippled his senses, but Artemis was already on her feet, clenching her crossbow.

"Stay here!" she ordered him, and his eyes went wide. "I'll go help the others!"

"Are you kidding?" he yelped, but she fixed him with an adamant gaze that silenced him altogether. Though her expression was resolute and firm, her cheeks were white and she looked a bit sick.

"_Stay here with Nelson_. We don't know what's going on here, but one of us needs to stay behind and it should be you. You've got the powers here, not me."

"Wha—I…" Wally frowned at her.

"You can handle it. I'll be back," she told him, and he hardly had time to say anything more before she had sprinted out of the room, footsteps clattering down the hallway.

Wally swallowed and glanced over at the dead man beside him, feeling his blood chill like something beyond the winter door.

He was alone.


	7. Chapter Five: Denial, Part Three

**Wow, this one took forever. Silly me, actually having a busy college and social life outside of Tumblr, with a fickle muse to boot! Oh, woe. Would that I could just sit on the Internet all day and eat Thin Mints. I'd be fat and sad and alone, but _at least I'd have fanfiction_. And probably cats.**

**There will be an interlude after this and then on to Chapter Six: _Kicks_. Thanks for being so patient with me, lovelies! And thanks for all of the continued support and interest in this story that you constantly provide. You're all amazing and I love you! Mwah!**

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to or affiliation with _Young Justice_.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five:<strong>

_**Denial, Part Three**_

* * *

><p>"Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand."<p>

— Albert Einstein

* * *

><p>Wally couldn't be sure if his heart was throbbing or still.<p>

The parlor was bone-crackingly quiet, save for the sound of the ebbing fire, the crippling absence of Kent Nelson's breath (and maybe his own, to boot). Wally knelt dazedly down on the floor beside the body and, though he knew it would be of no use, began to clumsily try CPR.

Cardiopulmonary resuscitation. 7% success rate outside of a hospital. He hardly knew what it meant, or how exactly to do it – Uncle Barry had taught him once or twice, just offhand, and the medical community hardly knew exactly how it worked, but it didn't matter – he had to try something. He had to do something. Try. Do. Fail.

He hardly registered what he was doing, or how long he was trying to. He shoved his hands against Nelson's sternum, over and over; he felt moisture on his face, twisting down in scared, wet trails, and maybe he was shouting Nelson's name, but he wasn't certain—he could count, though, and that was something; _twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five—_

"Come on," he choked out, his words thick in his throat. "Come on, come on; you can't be dead; we're here to help you; you _can't_ be dead."

Nelson's body was growing steadily colder. Wally's pushing became sloppier – _I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know what I'm doing_ – less rhythmic; his arms were sore and leaden and finally, he slumped backwards, breathing raggedly.

"You can't be dead," he repeated. Only the quiet acknowledged him.

His eyes drifted to the gold trinket in the old man's unmoving hand. He reached hesitantly over and pried it from his fingers, wincing at the stillness of them, and pressed the release button at the top of it. The thing came open with a resounding click. Wally raised his eyebrows.

It was indeed a pocket watch, apparently. The clock face was off-white and clean and seemingly well-kept – above it, encased in the lid, was a worn photograph. A photograph, incidentally, of the woman in the portrait above the fireplace.

Wally exhaled quietly.

"So who are you?" he inquired.

He wasn't allotted much time to hear a response before a sound like a rifle firing suddenly cracked out from near the fireplace, and the room was abruptly invaded by a blinding red light. Wally let out a yell and shielded his eyes with his arm, dropping the watch to the floor with a clatter.

"Hey, dumb kid!"

The light dimmed – and the lights of the room along with it – and Wally dared to open his eyes, feeling them grow round at the sight before him.

A boy – appearing not much younger than he was – was levitating in the middle of the room with his hands folded cantankerously. His skin was disconcertingly gray, and his ebony hair curled into a shape altogether similar to horns. He was bony and gaunt and dressed in a rather peculiar-looking suit.

Draped around his shoulders was a cat – rust-colored with black stripes and luminescent red eyes. The boy grinned wickedly and the cat mirrored him.

"Top o' the mornin'," the boy hissed.

Wally's throat was still obnoxiously dry.

"Y-You..." he mumbled. "D'you come with the place?"

The boy's flint-like eyes twitched.

"Ooh, close," he sneered. He raised his hands and they began to glow scarlet, and Wally had just enough time to leap out of the way before he began to toss orbs of burning energy at him. How, Wally wasn't sure, but he wasn't in the mood to dwell on specifics.

"I just wanted to drop in and thank you!" the boy cried, continuing to fire. "It's all your doing that I can finally get my stupid helmet!"

"_Your_ helmet?" Wally growled, ducking behind an armchair that was promptly incinerated.

"Oh, you mortals are so redundant," the boy sighed, charging up another fireball. "Yes, my helmet! I've been trying to get that thing for weeks!"

Wally gasped when one of the shots singed his elbow as he rolled out of the way, coming to a stop beside one of the book cases.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Oh, that's not all that important, is it?" the boy snickered. "But if you must know, I go by Klarion. And this is Teekl. Say hi, Teekl!"

The cat hissed vehemently at Wally, who glared sourly back up at it.

"I'd shake hands, but that seems a little dangerous in hindsight," he retorted, nodding at Klarion's still-flickering hands. Klarion stuck out his lower lip.

"Oh, a comedian, eh?" He glanced at the cat. "I don't think he's very funny, Teekl; do you?"

Teekl growled indifferently. One of her ears flicked. Klarion nodded pensively at her, tapping a finger at his chin.

"Oh, a hero, too!" he marveled, spreading his arms wide as though introducing a circus act. "What a privilege! Facing the great Kid Flash!"

Wally finally got to his feet, and his legs began to hum with imminent motion. He glowered adamantly up at Klarion, who was clapping idly and largely ignoring him.

"Yeah, a privilege pretty much everybody has," he shouted. His hands were clenched into shaking fists. "So, uh... you're Klarion. Let's start with an easier question: What have you done to my Team?"

"Team... Team..." Klarion frowned thoughtfully, scratching his head. "Haven't seen anyone around here who fits that description! But no matter." He stroked Teekl's head with his free hand and was met with the sound of purring. "What do you think, Teekl? Do we incinerate him or show a little mercy and just crush his heart?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever crazy science you've got up your sleeve isn't going to work by the time I'm done with you." Wally raised his fists, ready. "C'mon. Let's get this over with!"

"I don't _caaaaaare_ about you," Klarion whined, drawing out the word "care" as if it was a particular thorn in his side. "I'm here for that."

He pointed in the general direction of where Kent Nelson's body was, and Wally, choosing to let down his guard, followed the gesture. He practically choked.

A strange gold helmet was bobbing firmly over Kent Nelson, glinting red from the light of Klarion's – energy orbs? What was he even supposed to call them? Wally had seen it before once, worn by a man standing beside Jay Garrick in an old photograph over a fireplace.

"No way," he muttered. "There is no way that that's—"

"Wondering how it got here, eh?" Klarion cut in. "Ah, I won't bother you with the details; the old geezer said some junk about how only a 'true believer' can unlock where it's hidden – it's all garbage anyway! The point is that it's here now. And it's mine."

"Whoa, hold on," Wally said slowly, backing up toward the helmet. "Maybe we can, y'know, talk this over. It's just some tin trinket, right?"

It was almost agonizing to keep himself from just jetting straight toward the thing and snatching it away, bolting out the door, but his opponent's reflexes seemed top-notch, and he didn't want to risk leaving Nelson alone. As a matter of fact, any vague semblance of a plan was lost on him, but he supposed that getting his hands on the helmet was one step in the right direction. No pun intended.

"Just some tin trinket?" Klarion scoffed. "What is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring. That thing is no trinket, kiddo. It's a powerful relic of the—hey!"

His eyes narrowed dangerously – Wally must have been moving a bit more obviously than he had hoped – and he unleashed a shriek, sweeping his arm through the air until it was followed by a wave of flames.

Wally let out a strangled cry and attempted to bolt out of the way, but the laces of one of his untied shoes had other plans. He tripped magnificently over them, and as his hands sought something to hold on to to break his fall, they managed to grab the helmet.

"Gotcha!" he breathed, ducking behind a settee just in time.

"Nice try, dummy!" Klarion snarled. "If you really think that little couch is going to protect you, you've got another thing coming to you!"

Wally hardly heard the tail end of his sentence, however – most likely owing to the fact that his heart felt like it had just jumped up and affixed itself in his throat. He stared down at the helmet, clutched between his sweating hands, and noticed that he was shaking. He spared a wayward glance to the still form of Kent Nelson, then back to the helmet again, and his ribs felt like they were being pried apart.

"A true believer," he murmured under his breath, and his temples were pounding.

He swallowed, screwed his eyes shut, and raised the helmet over his head before helplessly, desperately putting it on.

* * *

><p>There was no temperature.<p>

That was the first thing he became aware of. The second was the sound of a voice echoing distantly around him, accompanied by another, and another, and many more still – a hundred conversations were striking from far away, miles away, and he couldn't distinguish what a single one of them was saying.

_Okay. Okay._

"Okay. Okay," he chanted in hushed, rapid tones. "This must be… some kind of. Hallucination. I'm just delusional. Delusional. Stress overload. Maybe it was all a dream."

_Wishful thinking, kid._

"Wishful thinking, kid!" That voice carried much more clarity, and Wally wheeled around at the sound of it—and his heart, if it was, indeed, still functioning, lurched to a sickening stop.

_I don't believe we've been properly acquainted!_

"No," he croaked. "No, no, no. That's not – you're not—"

"I don't believe we've been properly acquainted!" Kent Nelson said cheerfully, grinning down at Wally, who was floundering wordlessly, face white. "I'm Kent Nelson, eccentric old man extraordinaire. And you are? No, don't tell me! The Wonderful Wallace West, I presume?"

_Don't touch that dial, folks! The wonderful Wallace West has arri—_

"How did you kn—" Wally choked out. Kent Nelson laughed and clapped him heartily on the back. The force was light, but Wally's knees still nearly buckled.

"Call it intuition, kid!" Nelson chuckled. "Anyway, what brings you here?"

"I—I—I..." Wally stammered. "But – you – how...?"

"Oh, that's right! I'm dead, aren't I?" Nelson scratched his chin, frowning upwards. "Probably shoulda tried to remember that. Say, you tried to save me, didn't you? Nice try, kid, but I was long gone by then! Can't say I wasn't touched by the effort, though."

"What... happened?" Wally asked, finally forming a coherent statement.

Nelson's eyes infinitesimally darkened.

"Well, you can't blame me for being old, can you? Those creaky ol' bones could only take so much torture. Oh, don't look so down, Wallace; it's fine by me! 'Bout time I croaked, to be honest."

"It's... It's Wally," Wally corrected him feebly. "Call me Wally."

Nelson seemed to weigh this, frowning in curious concentration, before his face split into a grin and he chuckled.

"Good name! Has character!" he decreed, as if he had just delivered a verdict that would change the world. Wally blinked vacantly at him, still attempting vaguely to process precisely what was going on and failing miserably.

"What's… where… wait!" He stiffened, flinching back involuntarily, feeling his heart begin to quicken uncomfortably. "Does this mean that I'm dead, too?"

"Whoa there, sport," Nelson laughed placatingly, waving a hand. "You're alive; don't worry. Your body's just being possessed by good ol' Nabu!"

"Na-who?" Wally asked weakly.

"Na_bu_. What are ya, deaf? Hah!" He seemed to think that the notion of Wally being deaf was extraordinarily funny. Wally disagreed, but it was hardly the time to squabble.

"And, uh, who might that be?" he prodded dazedly.

"Lord of Order! The eternal antithesis of a Lord of Chaos like Klarion the Witch Boy out there."

"You – know him?" Wally shouted. Nelson blinked, surprised.

"Well, I sure as heck _hope_ I know him, if he's in my house!" He seemed to think this was all largely amusing, if his knee-slapping reaction was any indication, but Wally didn't share his sentiments.

"Look – sir – I don't know what's going on here at all, and really, I'd appreciate it if you could just let me on out of here so I can run circles around that guy and get this over with—"

Nelson's laughter ebbed, and his gaze swiveled (finally) to Wally's. Wally straightened, expression serious, and Nelson frowned at him.

"Why'd you put on the Helmet if you didn't know what you were getting into?" he asked slowly.

Wally stared down at his feet.

"I didn't have a choice," he said. "I was, uh. I was scared."

Nelson nodded contemplatively, and Wally couldn't help feeling as though he was being evaluated with each word he spoke.

"I mean, I could've taken him myself, but—" he began to append hastily, but Nelson put up a hand to silence him. Wally stared at his suddenly hardened visage.

"I don't know if you _can_ get out," Nelson told him calmly. "Not unless Nabu wills it."

"What?" Wally shouted, stepping back in shock. His stomach was twisting rapidly in a multitude directions. "I—I can't be stuck in here forever! I _can't_! I – I have friends, and a family, and a job to do; I – I can't be stuck in here!" he repeated as if it would help, trying to keep the tight panic out of his voice. "I can't! You have to let me out!"

"We'll worry about that when the time comes," Nelson murmured, patting Wally's shoulder evenly. Wally felt as if he was going to be sick, but his body was far too hollow for that all of a sudden.

A great silence passed as Wally's heart throbbed painfully and his fingers curled and uncurled dazedly.

"What's going to happen to me?" he heard himself ask dimly. Nelson shrugged, squeezed his shoulder, and released him.

"Nothing _too_ bad, kiddo," he promised. Despite the emptiness of his statement, Wally couldn't help believing him.

"S-So… Nabu's in control of my body right now?" Wally inquired dully. He didn't know why he bothered speaking anymore: he kept hearing his sentences before they began, echoing warily around him in the darkness.

"Yep," Nelson confirmed with a short nod.

"Then – then it's not _you_ who's Doctor Fate. It's Nabu?"

"Got it in one!" Nelson sounded monumentally proud of him. It did little to encourage any semblance of happiness. "I'm just an old coat Fate – er, Nabu – used to put on way back when. Nabu possesses the mind and body of all who don the Helmet. It was fun, but… it got a little old after a while."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the watch that Wally had earlier seen, popping it open. Wally's eyes wandered to the photo inside.

Nelson was smiling softly, sentimentally, at the photograph.

"I would've kept going with it to my grave, but my wife Inza convinced me otherwise. Then again, stickin' with that gal was just about as exhausting as wearing the Helmet!" He guffawed, clapping Wally on the shoulder.

"Inza?" Wally repeated quietly.

"Nice name, isn't it?" Nelson murmured, running his thumb along the surface of the picture and sighing quietly. "Ah, I miss her. But she's waiting for me. Probably ready to bust my bum for takin' so long!"

"Why are you still here if she's waiting for you?" Wally asked, not even bothering to dwell on how little he believed in the idea of human beings _waiting_ for each other after death in the first place.

"Well, it looks like my soul got snatched into the Helmet right before you put it on because I was in a close proximity to it, or some mumbo-jumbo like that," Nelson expounded uninterestedly. "Ask Nabu if you want the specifics."

Wally nodded deafly, folding his arms despite a lack of any kind of chill.

"So… what's, uh… going on right now?" He gestured to the abyss. "Y'know, out there."

"Oh. Lots of exciting things, I'm sure." Nelson's hand was back on his shoulder. "You can watch, if you like!"

Wally opened his mouth to say that no, he did not at all want to watch, but suddenly he no longer saw Nelson nor the odd black infinity; he was back in the parlor, back in the firelight, all silhouettes and colors shifting. Klarion was screeching at him, soaring at him, and he was leaping out of the way without even thinking to. He raised his hands and heard his voice chanting, backed by another that was deeper and eerie, and perhaps by others – a great golden light erupted from his palms and shot toward Klarion, who crossed his arms in an X-shape and effectively conjured some kind of scarlet shield.

"You're out of practice, Nabu!" Klarion squawked, cackling and tossing more balls of fire at Wally—Nabu—Doctor Fate?

Wally wanted to shout something back at him, but his body would permit him no such thing: he felt his head turn toward a dark corner, where Klarion's cat was sitting and licking its paw.

He lifted his hand and another beam of light rocketed toward Klarion, who dodged it narrowly; he lifted his other, and shot the same type of beam toward the cat.

Wally gasped. The beam hit the cat before it could react, knocking it against the wall and to the floor. It yowled in shock, collapsing.

Klarion whirled, and a genuine expression of terror was tearing across his face.

"Teekl!" he screamed, alarmed. Teekl meowed feebly and Klarion whipped toward Wally again.

"How _dare_ you!" the Witch Boy chastised him furiously. "She—she's just a poor _kitty_!"

"That is no cat," Wally heard himself and the other voices boom out. His voice sounded so strange and out of place. "Do not lie to yourself, Witch Boy. How will you remain on this plane without your familiar to guide and anchor you?"

Klarion seemed to be flickering in and out of visibility, and was staring down at his intangible hands in horror. He shot one last hateful glare at his opponent before leaping toward Teekl, gingerly picking her up, and snapping his fingers. A black and red portal appeared behind him, swirling and shaking.

"We'll finish this another day, old chum," Klarion vowed with a sneer. He fell backwards into the portal and was gone, and the portal closed, and the parlor was quiet.

Wally felt, then, as if a rope had been tied around his waist and was yanking him sharply back. He let out a cry of surprise, lurching as though losing his balance, before falling on his rear beside Nelson, back inside the Helmet.

"Wow," Wally breathed raggedly, unblinking.

"You said it!" Nelson cheered. "That was a slam-bang finish there, kid! Way to go!"

"I, uh… buh," Wally grunted.

Nelson slipped into silence, and Wally glanced up at him. He was staring at the sky, or lack thereof, with a rapidly darkening expression.

"You have to let him go, Nabu," he finally said to the darkness above. Wally craned his neck back to try to spot something, but it was utterly devoid.

Out of nowhere, the Helmet materialized over the two of them. Wally scrambled to his feet, muscles aching though he had not used them.

"Who are you, boy?" the Helmet inquired in a deep and rumbling voice that echoed down into his very bones. _Nabu_, he deduced immediately.

Wally straightened.

"I'm – I'm Wally West, sir, age fifteen! Better known as Kid Flash! I – I had to put you on because—"

"I require no explanations, Wally West," Nabu cut in harshly. Wally swallowed. "You have donned me, and thus you will serve as my host. The world needs Doctor Fate."

"No—" Wally began to choke out, panicked, but Nelson spoke over him.

"Nabu, my friend, you're making a _terrible_ mistake," he explained soothingly to Nabu. "This boy – his soul belongs to the world of science, not sorcery. He would be a poor and fickle host; you and I both know."

"That may be," Nabu riposted, "but I have been locked in this Helmet for decades, trapped like an insect, imprisoned."

"He'll find you a better host, Nabu. He'll see you're put to good use."

Wally stared at him. Nelson's elbow crashed into his side and he yelped.

"Yes! Of course! Scout's honor!" he declared, raising a hand in a solemn vow.

"In the meantime," Nelson continued, "I'll stick with you. Wouldn't want you to be lonely."

Wally turned his head and fixed Nelson with an incredulous stare.

"But – but what about Inza?" he exclaimed, hating the true concern in his tone. "Won't she be…?"

"Ah, that old bag can wait," Nelson joked. "Don't tell her I said that. But – that's the nice thing about eternity. Never ends. Any number of years is meaningless. Plus, even though Nabu here doesn't exactly play a mean game of cribbage, he's a good conversationalist, at least!"

"But… I…" Wally swallowed something down. His eyes were moistening. "I don't… deserve—"

"Shut yer trap, will ya?" Nelson chuckled. "I'm giving you a free ticket home! Use it!"

"The compromise is acceptable," Nabu decreed. Wally shivered under the volume and weight of his voice. "You may remove the Helmet at your leisure, Wally West."

"Right…" Wally gazed at Kent Nelson, misty-eyed and exhausted. "Wait. Sir. I just have one question…"

He gulped.

"You said – only a true believer could put on the Helmet. But… but I'm not…"

"Sure you are," Nelson told him gently, squeezing his shoulder and looking him in the eye. "It might not be in magic, but you are a true believer in science. That's all you need in life, kid, is something to believe in. Truly and deeply and unmovingly. Got that?"

Wally nodded, voice strained.

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Nelson and Nabu were beginning to fade, filled by an increasing white light. Wally felt the ground begin to give out beneath him, and he was falling, slowly. "Oh – one more thing!"

"Yes?" Wally called up, putting his arms out for balance.

"That girl's got a good head on her shoulders!" Nelson called down. "Give her a chance!"

Wally stared up at him, bewildered. Which girl? Nelson hadn't met any girl that he knew of...

"Who – sir, wait, I don't know what you're–!"

His sentence dissolved into a sharp inhale as he dropped back into his own body, feeling his arms lift the light weight of the Helmet off of his head. The parlor was dim before him, and there were holes in the walls and charred spots on the furniture, exuding smoke.

He turned slowly to the form of Kent Nelson, still and pale on the floor. His chest seized up and he bowed his head, clenching the edges of the Helmet. He bit his tongue until it hurt, hating the sensation clawing up through his body: that he had not saved him. That he had not been fast enough. That he—

"Wally?"

He jumped. There was a hand hovering cautiously at his elbow, and he turned rapidly to see Robin standing beside him, eyes obscured by the Ray Bans. His eyebrows were set worriedly in his forehead.

"What _happened_?" Robin asked incredulously, staring around the room. His eyes fell on Nelson and Wally swallowed, opening his mouth to explain. "No – no, sorry. Stupid question. Artemis told us on the way over…"

"Are you okay?"

Wally lifted his head, eyes focusing on the doorway. The other four were gathered there, filing in, led by Superboy, who had spoken.

"Yeah," Wally murmured with a distant nod. He could feel Artemis's eyes boring into the Helmet in his hands, but he did not look at her.

M'gann floated forward and embraced Wally, her cool arms gathering briefly around his neck before releasing him. Her eyes were wet, red around the edges.

"Are all of _you_ okay?" Wally asked her and the others in turn. There was a collective nod.

"No internal bleeding," Artemis declared breezily, and Wally almost hated her for such nonchalance. "So I'm guessing it's a success."

Wally's jaw tightened, but he said nothing as the six of them walked down the hallway and up the many staircases until they were in the entrance hall again, stepping out into the now-mid-morning light.

"We will have to tell Batman all that has occurred when we return," Kaldur murmured, striding up into the bioship. Superboy and M'gann followed, then Artemis, but Robin lingered briefly with Wally's halted form.

"Why do you still have that?" he asked quietly, nodding down to the Helmet. Wally had not looked away from it since they had left the parlor.

He considered the question, and a great deal many answers churned through his mind, but he finally settled on one, speaking it quietly and hoarsely before walking forward without looking back.

"Souvenir."

* * *

><p><strong>Mount Justice<strong>  
><strong>April 2, 1941 – 7:48 PM EDT<br>**

They hadn't arrived back at Mount Justice until the early evening, when the white-capped waters of the harbor were beginning to be tinged with low-hanging yellow hues. The journey had passed in almost total silence, save for sparse mutterings between two or three that tapered off rapidly. When they had flown within range, M'gann had contacted Red Tornado and told him to notify Batman of their return; when they finally landed in the hangar and filed up into the debriefing room, Batman had been waiting for them with his hands behind his back and had hardly given them a chance to line up before barking, "Start talking."

They told him in exhaustive detail, as per his request, of all that had occurred since that morning; shortly after recounting the fact that Kent Nelson had passed, they watched Red Tornado quickly depart, doubtlessly to inform the other League members of what had happened. When they finally, finally finished, it was past 7:30, and all of their voices were hoarse. Batman had dismissed them with a silent nod; M'gann had bobbed toward the kitchen and Superboy had bade them a curt good night; Kaldur had left for Atlantis after a short monologue that none of them truly listened to; Robin, after patting Wally's shoulder several times, had retreated toward the zeta tubes with Batman, who had told Wally and Artemis to wait for him in the living room for a few minutes while he sent Robin off to Gotham.

That was where they were walking now, in utter silence, as Wally's sweaty palms stuck to the sides of the Helmet, fogging up the metal. Wally was staring at his feet as he walked, replaying the words and face of Kent Nelson as many times as he could, trying desperately to expunge the sensation of the old man's cold and nonexistent pulse beneath his desperately searching hands. He was barely aware of the fact that Artemis was even with him, but the sight of her face – reddened from Klarion's spells, pale, and enervated – stuck with him despite his best efforts to keep it out.

"You never said what happened to you," she muttered at such an indistinct and uncharacteristically demure volume that, for a moment, Wally wasn't sure that he'd heard her at all. He glanced over at her, and she gesticulated vaguely, scratching lightly at a bruise forming around her left eye. "When you… you know. When you put on the Helmet."

Wally stared at her for several moments without speaking, and her steps slowed until she had stopped in the hallway with her hands hanging loosely at her sides. She said nothing, looking him in the eye, and he wanted to be angry at her for being so forward, but he wasn't, for some reason. He was probably just tired.

He moved his gaze to the Helmet between his hands, shifting it. There were two moist handprints on either side of it, and several smudged fingerprints. He had not let go of it since their departure from the Tower, which seemed like an absurdly long time ago.

"I don't really know," he said hoarsely. "I'm sure there's a scientific explanation for it."

"Right," Artemis replied, blatantly skeptical.

Wally exhaled slowly.

"I saw…" he started to say quietly, but his voice trailed off. Artemis was watching him expectantly. He patted the side of the Helmet pensively for a moment. "It wasn't really anything special."

Artemis huffed beside him.

"You're a square, West," she declared. Wally swallowed. "I can't figure you out and half the time you're too obnoxious for me to bother."

"Feeling's mutual," Wally grunted bitterly. "And what's all this 'half the time' stuff? You've barely known me a day."

"One day too many, if you ask me," Artemis sneered, starting to walk again. Wally fell into step with her, still focused on the floor. "But – you did okay today. I mean, you handled the situation well. So I guess you're not all bad."

"Not all bad, my foot," Wally snapped, jiggling his foot for emphasis and nearly tripping. They both strode into the living room and sat on opposite ends of the couch, not looking at each other.

Batman arrived shortly afterward, giving them a talk about teamwork and tolerance and good manners and etiquette and maturity that, despite their general ignorance of it, still managed to make them feel guilty. He threatened them with further punishment if they did not improve within the next month, and then he dismissed them, marching out of the room with his cape whipping out behind him.

Wally left Artemis on the couch without a word, shuffling down the hallway toward one of the empty rooms he had seen when he had first been shown the Cave. It was at the very end of the east hallway, a large wooden door hewn into the wall.

He moved the door open with his foot and walked carefully inside, turning on the light. It illuminated the interior, revealing, at the opposite end of the room, a tall wooden wall of shelves. On one of them rested the ragged arrow from the battle with Amazo, but the rest of the space was vacant and dusty.

Wally paced forward, gazing at the empty wood for the briefest of moments before gently lifting the Helmet and placing it on the smooth surface of the shelf.

He stepped back, hands on his hips, and surveyed it. After a short contemplation, he yawned, stretched, and left the room without looking back, switching off the light and closing the door so softly that it made no sound at all.


	8. Author's Note

**Okay, I've never been the kind of person who hoards reviews or begs for them or whatever. I don't really think they're terribly necessary because I always get a decent amount of them and any kind of feedback is always, always appreciated.**

**However, I've begun to get the feeling that not many people read this fic, and that a lot of the work I'm doing is generally for nothing. I think I maybe got four reviews for the last chapter, and despite the fact that people kept asking me to update, very few of them actually seem to have read the update at all.**

**So I'm just curious, since I'm trying to get a handle on this: How many people actually read this fic? Not now many of you review; how many of you read it? Because, to be honest, if none of you are reading it then I don't really see the point in writing it? I know that writing is all about doing it for yourself, for your own enjoyment, but honestly, feedback is half the fun for me. Feeling like there are people out there who actually care is great. But I don't think many people do care anymore. Which is fine! I'm not asking them to!  
><strong>

**I've just been thinking of giving up the story and I would very much like to know how many people read it. I'm just trying to get a feel for what's going on with my readers. And like I said, I don't expect an enormous influx of reviews for every chapter, but it feels like the review count has totally plummeted and I want to know what I'm doing wrong, so I can improve, and I want to know who's actually reading this anymore, because if nobody is, I'm probably going to discontinue it. _This is not a threat_. It's just a possibility. Honestly, I love writing this story! You should see the outline I have for it; my god. It's just that feedback, positive or otherwise, is what keeps me going sometimes because that's just how I am. I'm not asking for you to review every chapter. I'm just trying to get a head count. :) **

**I love you all! Thanks!**


	9. Interlude II

**All who had forgotten about this story until now, raise their hands. TRICK QUESTION! Nobody's actually stuck around to raise their hands. I think we just found our loophole. **

**It's been a while, I know. I kind of fell into a slump with this story, and I reworked a lot of it after seeing Invasion and pumped up my confidence in myself again and now I think I'll be back to working on it regularly. I hope so, anyway!**

**I just want to say, though, that without all of the amazing support you guys have been giving me, I really would have gotten nowhere. So thank you so, so, so much. I would have given up a long time ago if it hadn't been for your encouragement, fantastic feedback, and general investment in this stupid story of mine. **

**I've been writing a lot, so this'll be a triple update. Two updates tonight, and another at the end of the week. Just to make up for the gross delay.**

**All right, I'll just leave this here and pretend people are going to read it. Later, dorks.**

* * *

><p><strong>Salem, Massachusetts<strong>

**April 28, 1941 – 16:07 EDT**

Artemis didn't know why it always had to rain at funerals.

She hadn't been to very many of them, granted, nor was she acquainted with the practice of mourning in the first place. Regret and sadness were not in her blood, or maybe they had just been siphoned out of it by the time she was nine and her mother had been put in jail and her sister had left her.

She pulled surreptitiously at the black satin of her dress, tugging the skirt down. The lace on her fascinator kept scratching at her nose whenever she moved her head too rapidly, and there were runs in her stockings. She'd gone to the trouble of making her hair look halfway decent (Kaldur had told her, warmly, that she resembled Rita Hayworth with it curled that way, but he was probably just being nice), but she was sure it looked ridiculous, so she kept taking the ends of it between her fingers and twisting them, frowning at the sodden grass, at the fresh grave and tombstone a few feet in front of her.

It was Kent Nelson's. Batman had originally wanted everyone to appear at the service in costume, but Wonder Woman had persuaded him to allow them to attend in traditional black with only simple black domino masks to hide their identities. The similarity of the eyewear on everyone's faces made Artemis grimace a little, but she had followed the dress code and put on one of her own. The whole Team had, too, once they'd all confirmed that they'd be coming.

Maggie and Superboy were slumped sadly in the company of the Martian Manhunter, and Kaldur was with Aquaman, straight-backed and respectful. Robin was next to Batman, his face almost too despondent-looking for him to have had no experience with this sort of thing.

Green Arrow was holding a wide umbrella beside Artemis, which was nice. She hadn't gotten too soaked, not like the soggy landscape of the cemetery – not like Wally.

She dared to glance up and to her left, where Wally was standing between the two Flashes, the old and the new. They were a good distance away, and the rain didn't help her visibility, but she could easily see that Wally had neglected to stand under the umbrella held in the current Flash's hand. His black suit and his red hair were both drenched, but he didn't seem to care.

He hadn't said a word since everyone had arrived that morning. He had been uncharacteristically early, waiting next to a brown sedan with the Flash and Jay Garrick long before Artemis had arrived with Black Canary and Green Arrow in the latter's new Buick. It was strange – Artemis had barely known Wally for a month and already she had grown accustomed to his penchant for yammering, though his talkativeness had been dwindling since the date of Nelson's memorial service had been announced.

His arms were straight, as was his back, but his head was bowed and his expression was unreadable. His fingers had curled into fists that shook slightly, or tightened whenever Red Tornado would mention Inza or the Helmet in his eulogy. She'd never seen Wally so silent, so solemn. His hair was sticking to his forehead and his jaw was tight.

She tore her attention away from him and tried to focus on the tail end of Red Tornado's speech, but she couldn't. The atmosphere was far too grim and cold and dreary and she couldn't stand the sadness pressing in on her from all sides, the mourning she couldn't bring herself to share. Certainly she had respected Kent Nelson, but she'd never spoken to him, never even seen him, unless finding his body counted, and she didn't particularly like to recall that.

Red Tornado finished, and invited anyone else at the service to step forward and speak if they saw fit. Batman gave a small speech about heroism and sacrifices and honor; Superman spoke of kindness and bravery and many other virtues that Nelson had possessed; Jay Garrick told an uproarious story about the time he and Nelson had traveled around the world together as an excuse to escape the wrath of their wives following some series of hijinks that ended in the ruination of Thanksgiving dinner. Everyone laughed except Wally.

The tales were told and then they ebbed, and Artemis thought that maybe it was time to go home, at last, out of the rain and the emptiness and the dirt and the stone. But then Wally stepped forward.

Everyone went utterly quiet, and he turned to face them, his hands clasped together in front of him. Artemis stared at him in bewilderment, but didn't speak; she spared a look at Robin, who didn't look surprised in the slightest. Wally's eyes strayed to him and he nodded encouragingly, which seemed to give Wally the initiative to take a deep breath and speak.

"Kent Nelson..." Wally began, and then he frowned, swallowed something down, and started again. "I only met Kent Nelson once, and it was inside the Helmet of Fate."

A ripple of murmurs went through the gathering, and Artemis' eyes widened. He hadn't told her that. She shouldn't have expected him to, really, but his fervent denial on the subject of the unexplainable had done a fine job of convincing her that he hadn't experienced anything other than a simple possession.

She wondered if he'd told Robin. Probably. That would explain the nod.

"I didn't know him when he was Doctor Fate," Wally continued, staring resolutely at the ground. "I didn't even know him when he was alive. I didn't know him at all. We talked for maybe – maybe twenty minutes, half an hour. I was scared out of my mind in there, because I didn't know what was going on or why. I didn't know what would happen to me. I thought I'd be stuck in there forever."

Out of the corner of her eye, Artemis thought she saw Giovanni Zatara's face darken, and he grasped his daughter's shoulder. (Artemis didn't know the girl's name.)

"But he got me out." Wally lifted his chin, finally, and his eyes swept over the others. His voice was louder now, more even. "He saved my life the way I... the way I couldn't save his."

The Flash started to step forward, but Wally caught his eye and halted him.

"He told me something in there." The words were starting to tremble in the air, but the rain did nothing to mute them, and Artemis felt an unexplained twisting somewhere in her stomach. "He told me that all I needed in life was something to believe in. I wasn't really sure what it was then. But now I think I am."

He sighed, tilting his head back and staring up at the sky. The rain pelted his face, but he didn't blink.

"Kent Nelson was an example of what it means to believe," he said, and Artemis had never fathomed that such serious words could come out of him. "I know it sounds hokey, but maybe that's just because we forget sometimes, that we're here because we believe in good things and we believe in promoting and protecting them, like he did."

There was a hush that had fallen like a veil over the entire cemetery, over every form and figure, and Artemis felt herself blinking something back in the quiet. She told herself it was just the rain.

"I hope he's with Inza now," Wally finished, but there was something horribly sad in his voice, backed by the smallest hint of bitterness and regret and a sincerity she couldn't imagine him holding. After a moment, he strode slowly back into the crowd, his knuckles white, a stark contrast to the black band on his arm.

Batman said a few more things after that, but Artemis didn't hear them. She was watching Wally, expecting him to start grinning and laughing and acting like his somberness was all some hilarious joke that only he and Robin understood, but he didn't. As the coffin was lowered into the ground beside Inza Nelson's grave, she swore that he was crying.

* * *

><p>Batman didn't give them many other missions after that, outside of basic reconnaissance excursions that usually ended in some form of combustion. At first, Artemis had thought that it was because he didn't trust them, but Robin explained to her that, on the contrary, he trusted them just fine, but he was just a little bit shaken by the fact that their first mission since Artemis had gotten there had ended in the death of a former Justice League member.<p>

She didn't really understand it, but she kept her mouth shut and followed orders and stayed as distant as she could from the rest of the Team. It was not her intention to bond with them, or care about them, or even like them. That was just asking for trouble, and it was the kind of trouble she'd let herself fall into far too many times.

She would go straight home after missions, and try her best to avoid the Cave unless it was for deployment, in which case she wouldn't show up until the last minute so that no one would have the chance to talk to her. Robin was dogged in his attempts to strike up conversation, and occasionally she would be too worn-out from training to try to deflect him, so she begrudgingly let herself call him her only friend on the Team (and friend was such a nasty word, just setting itself up to be torn to pieces, because it couldn't be spelled without _end_).

It wasn't bad. She liked it, honestly. She was able to juggle it with her schoolwork just fine, not that Gotham North High School was a particularly demanding institution. Her mother was pleased, too, with the fact that Artemis' "extracurriculars" now came with supervision, or, at least, a few decoys that could act as human shields in case of emergency.

Wally got better. A couple of weeks after the funeral, he was back to his old self, swaggering around the Cave like he owned it, cracking the stupidest jokes she'd ever heard, getting into shenanigans with Robin (one of which ended in her waking up with green hair, and she had chased them around the Cave for hours), speeding hither and yon too quickly for her to deck him whenever he said something annoying.

But she got better, too. A wary civility had started to hang between the two of them when he wasn't being a blockhead and she wasn't feeling stingy. He even apologized to her, once, after he tripped her for fun, but it didn't really discount the fact that he'd done it in the first place.

Artemis made observations about the lot of them when they didn't notice her watching. For example, Robin hummed a lot of Frank Sinatra and never tied his shoes and liked Judy Garland an awful lot. Maggie didn't know how to braid her hair (Artemis figured maybe she ought to teach her) and tried to make everyone happy, and she loved chocolate. Superboy didn't talk much, but when he did, it was always some oddball thing that didn't relate to the conversation; he liked bananas but hated monkeys, and he rarely combed his hair. Kaldur was always willing to listen but never pressed anyone for anything, and he murmured _Tula _in his sleep when he'd fall asleep on the couch, whatever that meant.

Wally wore a lot of yellow and talked about his family a lot and liked apple pie. For such a relentless eater, he was surprisingly tidy about cleaning up after himself, but only in the kitchen. He did a good Humphrey Bogart impersonation and loved fedoras, and he considered butter too big a luxury for him to eat too much of, since he'd never had very much as a kid.

They were an odd bunch, really. But she liked them just a little bit. Just a little. April and May passed by quietly, and she finished her second year of high school with grades so good that her classmates jeered at her. She couldn't help that she'd enjoyed F. Scott Fitzgerald, could she? No.

But she hadn't been in the mood to get into a fight on the last day of class, so she'd bit her cheek and walked ten blocks home without looking back. She was proud of herself, and that was all that mattered. She'd been proud of herself ever since she first fashioned that green costume for herself, ever since Batman had escorted her to Mount Justice, ever since Green Arrow had first smiled down at her after she'd taken down Black Spider all by herself.

Summer was starting. She shaded her eyes against the sun as she looked at it out her window. The Gotham smog had turned it red.


	10. Chapter Six: Kicks, Part One

**Star City**  
><strong>June 7, 1941 – 10:48 EDT<strong>

Roy Harper glanced tetchily at his watch for the fifth time in the last three or so minutes, his eyebrows tight and his mouth thin. Main Street was bustling around him without pause, but he was rooted in place in front of the already-packed soda shop, his unruly red hair sticking out in all directions.

He had rolled up the sleeves of his gray slacker jacket ages ago, hardly one to ignore the ascending summer heat. Star City always started growing warmer at the end of spring, and by June alone, it was already close to intolerable. The sky was an unimpeded blue, and not even the faintest twitch of a breeze graced the heat-wave-riddled avenues. That probably explained why the soda shop was filled to the corners with customers – and if Roy had to spend one more second waiting outside of it than sitting _inside _with a bowl of ice cream, he was probably going to commit homicide.

Green Arrow would _not_ approve of such an act, but it wasn't as though the mustachioed bungler had any say in Roy's life at this point; or at least, Roy liked to _think _he didn't. He hadn't actually spoken to Oliver Queen since March, but that hadn't stopped the latter from casually depositing a hefty sum into his bank account every month. Roy cared more about maintaining distance from Ollie than he did about asserting his independence, so he kept his mouth shut and pretended not to notice.

He scowled down at his watch again, which glinted cheerfully back at him. He was starting to sweat. If he had to stand out here for _one more second_—

He heard a sudden, telltale _whoosh _from behind the establishment, and before he even had the chance to turn around and investigate the source, Wally West had sprinted over to him from the back alleyway, screeching to a halt and doubling over to catch his breath practically at Roy's feet.

"About time, Kid!" Roy snapped. "You said you'd be here at 10:30!"

"Sorry, sorry," Wally puffed, straightening. His hair was, naturally, tousled, along with his short-sleeved button-up white shirt and beige slacks.

"It just _figures _that the Fastest Boy Alive is late to everything," Roy muttered. Wally didn't hear him. "C'mon, West, let's go in before the place starts teeming over."

Wally obliged him, trying to smooth down his haywire hair and failing miserably. Roy led the way into the crowded soda shop, shouldering past a group of giggling middle-school girls as Wally bobbed along behind him.

They finally reached the counter, where the petulant-looking soda jerk, a twenty-something named Rhonda, was chewing her bubble gum loudly. Roy opened his mouth to order, but Wally crowded over first.

"I'll take two malts," he said nonchalantly, pulling out two quarters and slamming them onto the counter. Rhonda raised one penciled eyebrow before loping over to the silver machinery against the back wall.

"Just _one _for me," Roy added pointedly as he dropped five nickels, staring at Wally, who had the decency to look sheepish.

"Big appetite," the younger boy explained lamely. Roy shook his head and pointed his gaze to the ceiling, but didn't press the issue. Rhonda was back in a heartbeat, sliding two glasses to Wally and dropping a third in front of Roy.

She languidly picked up their change and put it in the pinging cash register before calling out, "Next!"

Roy didn't know how they managed it, but he and Wally were able to find two unoccupied stools at the end of the soda bar. Wally hopped up onto his in an instant, already starting in on his first malt, and Roy rolled his eyes before joining him.

"So," Wally began just when the silence between them was beginning to border on awkward. "How's tricks?"

Roy glanced aside at him, admittedly surprised that he even cared.

"Fine, I guess," he grunted back. "Operating outta three different cities, few hospital visits here and there… nothing really worth talking about."

Wally snorted into his malt.

"Oh, yes. The usual affair," he agreed sarcastically. "Green Arrow said you've gone toe-to-toe with…" He lowered his voice, glancing around conspiratorially. "_The League of Shadows_."

Roy let out an annoyed huff.

"Green Arrow doesn't know anything!" he snapped. "…But he's right."

Wally could have just been told that Roy had been elected President of the United States and his expression would look no different.

"Wh—Who?!" he spluttered out. "Where? When? Jumpin' jelly beans, how many?!"

"Calm down, Kid!" Roy hushed him emphatically. "You'll vibrate through the soda bar!"

"Tell me everything," Wally insisted with protuberant, awestruck eyes.

"It's—" Roy grimaced. Sharing a blow-by-blow account of how he had narrowly escaped death at the hands of the ruthless (and infuriating) assassin known as Cheshire was not how he had planned on spending his afternoon with Wally. "It was just once. I barely fought any of them. It was just reconnaissance, they spotted me, I managed to get away. Fended off Cheshire long enough to make a break for it."

"Cheshire?!" Wally squawked. "_The _Cheshire?! As in 'smile as you kill?!'"

"Wally, if you don't keep it down—" Roy snarled. Wally threw up his hands defensively.

"Don't flip your wig, Harper, just spill the beans!" he insisted. "How'd you get away?"

"I feinted and dodged until she got bored, and then I ran," Roy said bluntly, tactfully omitting the details involving the fact that she had sent him off with an inexplicable good-bye kiss that was miraculously _not _laced with poison. Insignificant details.

Wally deflated, looking sorely disappointed.

"How is it that you manage to make fighting _the League of Shadows _sound about as boring as Shakespeare?" he grumbled, snatching his second malt.

"We're not _all _a bunch of doll dizzy blockheads," Roy retorted with a smirk. Wally scoffed in response.

There was another lapse into silence for a moment, but Roy cleared his throat and broke it.

"How about you?" he asked. "How's the new gig?"

"Oh, the Junior Justice League?" Wally beamed, clearly approving of Roy's question. "That's what we call ourselves. Killer-diller, thank you very much! We're a bit of a ragtag bunch, but we've done okay for ourselves. Haven't had many missions, but Batman says that'll pick up once the cold weather hits. Apparently the baddies are twice as evil when the temp drops."

Roy stared at him as he babbled enthusiastically, wondering whether he should help continue his rambling by asking for further explanation or just let him spew everything out at his usual speed.

He decided on the latter, since Wally didn't seem like he'd be coming up for air anytime soon.

"Okay, so!" Wally raised one hand enthusiastically, ticking off team members on his fingers. "Kal got elected to be leader – well, maybe not elected per se, but he did a swell job bossing us around on the Nelso—uh, the last mission, so he's in charge; isn't that great? And then there's Rob, always a charmer; oh, and you went steaming out before you could meet Supey! Superboy, that is. Major emotional constipation, but he's a great guy; real hit at parties and the like. Literally a hit. HAH! Because he hits things!" He laughed heartily at his own joke and Roy forced a twitch of a smile onto his face in response. "This is all top-secret, so I'm probably not allowed to tell you, but he's a clone of Superman—crazy, right?"

"Yeah, crazy," Roy muttered, not expecting Wally to pay any mind to his response.

"Man, Roy, you've gotta swing by sometime!" Wally implored him. "Just _wait_'ll you meet Miss Martian!" He leaned in, adopting a serious expression. "But I saw her first." He swayed back out, continuing undaunted. "Sweetest cookie on the Eastern Seaboard, and in the meantime she can flip cities over with her brain! She's a knockout!"

Roy was sure that if Miss Martian could legitimately flip cities over with her brain, the Justice League would not have her on a ragtag team of ex-sidekicks.

"And..." Wally's face had darkened while Roy had gone off on his brief thought, and he looked frighteningly close to suddenly throwing his milkshake into a wall. "We've got this new archer, too."

Roy's eyes widened.

"You've _what_?!" he exclaimed, hating the genuine shock in his voice. "You – Green Arrow never told me!"

He didn't know why he would have _expected_ Green Arrow to tell him. Their lack of contact – which had been of _Roy's _volition, and hardly of Ollie's – had thrown him about as far out of the loop as he could be, and it wasn't as though Roy had demanded to be caught up on Ollie's life in the past few months.

Still, it stung. He had been replaced. Without a word, without so much as a blink, Green Arrow had replaced him. It had only been four months since he'd cut ties and gone solo, and yet Green Arrow had already brought in a new model.

Roy gripped his malt, and his knuckles blanched.

"Who is he?" he demanded in a low tone.

Wally cleared his throat, clearly noticing Roy's averse reaction to the news.

"_She_," he corrected him delicately, "is Artemis."

Roy's eyebrows shot up. _She_?

"A girl?" he exclaimed, not even bothering to try to mask his total shock. A _girl_ wielding a bow? A _girl_ working as Green Arrow's sidekick, patrolling the streets at night, getting bloodied and bruised, beating up thugs before breakfast? It was unimaginable. It was _ludicrous._ "Are you _joking_?"

"Scout's honor," Wally insisted, raising his hand solemnly. Roy didn't bother pointing out that he was reproducing the Girl Scouts' sign instead of the Boy Scouts'. "This broad's a firecracker, Roy. She's completely berserk. I'm talking The Human Monster here. Her soul is The Door With Seven Locks."

"Don't be stupid," Roy barked. "Is she any good? I mean – what's her deal?"

Wally shrugged apathetically, looking as though he was trying to force himself to appear bored.

"No clue. She just showed up out of the blue and that was that. Apparently, she's G.A.'s niece. Nepotism, if you ask me, since she's a terrible harpy and all." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, sniffing and returning to the last of his second malt.

Roy frowned. _That _sounded distinctly suspicious, since he was fairly certain that Ollie had no immediate relatives that he knew of, unless Black Canary counted (she might as well, but the woman didn't seem like the type to have nieces).

"Green Arrow doesn't have a niece," Roy said before he could stop himself. "No way."

Wally blinked at him, looking surprised.

"Well, I guess everybody's got a little something up their sleeve." He shrugged again, lifting one lopsided shoulder. "Anyway, I don't see the family resemblance. Except for the blonde hair."

Roy paused at Wally's latter comment, glancing at the younger boy with a knowing glint in his eye.

"You love blondes," he commented nonchalantly. Wally bristled, and for a moment, it looked like his hair was about to puff up.

"_Soullessness _usually counteracts hair color," he snapped, his cheeks flushing. Roy rolled his eyes, pushing his empty glass away. There was still a bitter feeling stewing in his chest, but he tried not to pay it any heed.

He'd take the matter up with Ollie.

"Look, when you meet her, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about," Wally was saying, and Roy pulled himself out of his thoughts to listen.

His brow tightened.

"_Meet_her?" he repeated testily. Wally poked his index fingers together, eyes flicking away.

"Well, uh, yeah, see..." he stammered. "I was kinda hoping..."

"If you're trying to set me up with this dame, Wally..." Roy growled threateningly, and Wally jumped and waved his hands around in denial, eyes wide.

"No! No, no no! What are you, nuts?" he shouted. "No, no... there's just..."

He grimaced, bowing his head, and Roy tapped his foot impatiently. Finally, after inhaling, he started to talk.

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Harbor<strong>

**The previous day, 17:12 EDT**

"West!"

Wally let out a yelp of shock when he felt a clump of dirt sharply hit the back of his head. With a gasp, he whirled around to see a cluster of barrel-chested boys standing a few feet away, all sneering at him. At the front of the pack was a tall and honestly terrifying-looking fellow with a chiseled jaw and beady brown eyes that seemed to be permanently narrowed.

Wally straightened, skin crawling at the dirt caked on the back of his neck, and lifted his worn baseball cap off of his head, resting his hands on his hips.

"Rogers," he barked, inclining his head curtly.

Stan Rogers had never been one of Wally's favorite people. He was the esteemed leader of Happy Harbor's obligatory posse of meatheads, and he had no trouble broadcasting it – Wally had only had one or two run-ins with him since the Team had erected its home base at Mt. Justice, but not one of them had been pleasant.

Stan was also captain of the local sandlot baseball team, which Wally had accidentally forgotten. This didn't bode well for him, considering the fact that he and Robin had just started practicing on the sandlot that "belonged" to Stan and his ensemble.

Baseball was something that Wally took very seriously. His father had taught him to play when he was a kid, and he'd never let the skill start to lull. He would spend multiple afternoons and evenings at Wayne Manor, enthusiastically listening to games on the radio with Robin, who shared his gusto.

He'd been _planning _on spending his summer days in Happy Harbor playing baseball with Robin, maybe putting together a team sooner or later; the local sandlot was an ideal spot, naturally, but he'd entirely disremembered the fact that it was Stan's territory, and that if he and Robin wanted to use it, it would have to be battled for.

"Ah, the cavemen have come out to play!" Robin sang out from behind Wally, strutting forward and stopping beside him, leaning on his baseball bat. He smirked at the group through his Ray-Bans. "What an honor."

"Pipe down, Grayson," Stan barked, stepping forward menacingly. "You think you're so _smart_, but last I checked, chimney brushes don't got no brains."

Robin considered this, stroking his chin.

"I'm trying to find some sense made in that statement," he mused, "but it's really not working out."

"What do you want, Rogers?" Wally demanded hotly.

"Give ya three guesses," Stan sneered, and one of his cronies snickered. "This is our field, genius. Last I checked, that means only _we_get to use it."

"Yes, well, according to the Constitution, every man has the right to life, liberty, and property," Dick riposted airily.

"Pursuit of happiness," Wally grumbled.

"Not _my _property, pipsqueak," Stan snapped. "Now move along. We've got a game to play."

"Against _who_?" Wally asked.

Stan blinked.

"Uh... against... against None of Your Business!" he flummoxed, and his friends nodded in agreement. "Doesn't matter, West! If you want use of the lot, you're gonna have to get our permission!"

"Who died and put you in charge?!" Wally yelled.

"Who put you in charge and died?!" Dick added with cynical drama, letting out a gasp. Wally stared at him for a moment before shaking his head, choosing to ignore him.

"Why don't we have a game to decide who gets the lot for the summer?" he suggested adamantly, folding his arms and raising a challenging eyebrow. "My team against yours."

"_What _team?" one of Stan's friends inquired snidely.

Wally flushed indignantly, scrambling for an answer.

"Well, that would obviously be the... the..." He glanced at Dick, who was staring idly at the sky, totally unhelpful as usual.

"The Flashbirds," he heard himself say decisively, and he followed it by folding his arms triumphantly and smirking at Rogers and his entourage. "Or, if you're not inclined toward the whole brevity thing... the Ones Who're Gonna Kick Your Cans from Here to Schenectady."

Stan straightened up at his words, a glare that went beyond mockery forming on his face. His friends looked at each other and whispered amongst themselves, glancing questioningly at him as though waiting for orders.

Wally tensed involuntarily, his hands curling into fists, and secured his hat back on his head defiantly, jerking his chin at the other boys. Dick seemed to notice the tension in the air, shifting his attention away from the evening clouds and staring at Stan over his sunglasses.

Finally, Stan stepped forward until his chest bumped against Wally's. Though they were the same age, he towered over Wally's skinny form, but Wally didn't budge, glaring firmly back up at him.

Stan jabbed him in the shoulder with one finger, his eyes narrowing. Wally puffed up.

"You're on," Stan ground out at last, and Wally straightened his back, grinning wickedly.

"I hope you like losing, Rogers," he said.

Stan stepped back, his eyebrows tight with loathing.

"I _hate _it," he snarled back.

With that, he stormed away, beckoning his friends to follow him. They all glared suspiciously at Wally and Dick, and Dick waved cheerfully at them as they shuffled out to the street.

The street lamps flickered on, yellow disks of light on the pavement.

"Well, that was sufficiently terrifying," Dick declared cheerily, clapping Wally on the back. "And you, my friend, are completely insane."

"Me? Please," Wally scoffed. "Beating them'll be a breeze."

"Mmhmm," Dick hummed indifferently, his lips pursed. "And how do you propose to do that with only two players?"

Wally froze.

"I hadn't considered that," he said blankly. Dick patted his shoulder pityingly.

"I thought not," he sighed, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his pants and gazing up at the emerging stars. "Would it be jumping the gun to say we're doomed?"

"Before you jump it," Wally replied, "give it to me so I can shoot myself."

* * *

><p>"So yes," Wally finished, folding his hands and resting them on the counter. "I may or may not need your assistance."<p>

"No," Roy grunted immediately, folding his arms. Wally's face fell comically.

"Why not?!" he demanded, throwing his hands in the air and garnering several stares that Roy didn't have the energy to meet with a glower.

"Gee, Wally," Roy replied with snide astonishment, "Maybe because I've got better things to do with my time than play baseball with the Little Justice League!"

"Not that that wasn't a _hysterical_ pun," Wally interjected, looking crestfallen, "but are you saying you've got better things to do with your time than play baseball with your _friends_?"

Roy groaned, smacking his hand to his forehead.

"You and Robin," he grunted monotonously. "And Kaldur. Along with, what, twenty other total strangers? Sounds _thrilling_."

"Not _twenty_," Wally protested lamely. "More like..." He frowned and lifted his hand, ticking off players on his fingers. "Five. And Black Canary, if she's willing to be umpire."

"Doubtful." Roy folded his arms and directed his attention to the clock, not in the mood to be met with Wally's pitiful expression any longer. "Exactly how many innocent people are you trying to rope into this?"

"Roy," Wally said solemnly, and Roy dared to glance over at him. His demeanor had darkened considerably. "If you do not help me, I'll tell Green Arrow that you still keep his autograph framed by your bed."

Roy stiffened, his mind scrambling for an adequate retort. He hadn't the faintest idea how Wally had found out about that, but it wouldn't do wonders for his dignity if Green Arrow heard about it.

"You wouldn't _dare_," he snarled lowly, leaning forward with his fist raised. Wally threw his hands up, feigning innocence.

"I dunno, maybe I would," he mused lightly. "And, y'know. Super speed. So I _doubt _you'd have time to get rid of it before I broke the news to G.A."

"You little _weasel_!" Roy bellowed, lunging forward. Wally yelped and leaped out of the way, sprinting out the glass doors as Roy pursued him doggedly, garnering another wave of perplexed stares from the customers. "I'll get you for this!"

"Is that a yes?!" Wally called over his shoulder, beaming.

Roy finally caught him by the collar and dragged him back down the street, fuming, ignoring his flailing and yelling – when the zeta tubes dropped them off in Happy Harbor, Roy considered it a good enough sign that indeed, it was a yes.


	11. Chapter Six: Kicks, Part Two

**Gotham City**  
><strong>June 7, 1941 – 11:22 EDT<strong>

Artemis wasn't sure how long she'd been fiddling with her arrows, polishing and sharpening and tweaking, but she _was_ fairly sure that her legs were losing circulation from being crossed for so long, and she _was _fairly sure that her mother was going to come wheeling over at any moment to chastise her for wasting her morning on frivolities.

It was a muggy day in Gotham, and a single metal fan was rattling in the living room, contributing absolutely nothing to the situation; Artemis had long ago pulled her hair into a bun and tucked it away from her face with a bandana, but it didn't help the fact that she was still sweating.

"Artemis!" Her mother, right on cue. "Are you going to be twiddling with those things all _day_?"

"No," Artemis called back without looking up from the green fletching of arrow #35. "I'll be heading over to the mountain for lunch."

"Well, you had better hurry up, then! It is almost half-past eleven!" She could hear the wheels of her mother's wheelchair moving over the tiles in the kitchen. "Lateness is not smiled upon by _anyone_, Artemis. Not me, not the Justice League, and _certainly _not your friends."

"They're not my friends!" Artemis barked a bit more harshly than she had intended. She inhaled and forced her voice to soften. "They're _not _my friends. They're just – they're like peers. Acquaintances."

"Perhaps you should try to make them your friends, then," Paula Crock said briskly, moving down the hallway and into the living room. Artemis sighed and glanced up from her arrows, meeting her mother's sad brown eyes and smiling wanly. Paula, even in her wheelchair, seemed to tower over the rest of the world, with a straight back and a fierce posture and thick black hair that darkened her gaze. "You could use more of those, _con gái tôi_."

"Mom, I'm fine," Artemis insisted placatingly, putting one hand on Paula's knee and trying to strengthen her own hesitant smile. "Better off alone and everything."

"That is not you speaking," Paula snapped, looking away. "Those are your father's words."

Artemis bristled and drew her hand away, eyes darting to the floor. There was a bitter taste in her mouth; the mention of her father was harsh against her chest, and she tried in vain to wrestle it away.

"You're right; I shouldn't be late," she said sharply, her tone cold, and she stood swiftly and strode out of the room without looking back. Paula didn't say a word, and Artemis did her utmost to convince herself that it didn't slow her steps when she reached the sidewalk.

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Harbor<strong>

**June 7, 1941 – 12:00 EDT**

"No, no," M'gann giggled gently, putting her hand on Superboy's to halt him. "Don't roll the pin so hard."

Superboy let out a frustrated huff and released the rolling pin in his hands, crossing his arms obstinately and scowling down at it. He had somehow been roped into helping M'gann bake all morning, and she had taken it upon herself to teach him the finer points of it. He didn't seem to be retaining them particularly well, having already broken one cutting board from wielding the rolling pin too roughly.

"Does it even matter so long as you can eat them?" he grumbled, narrowing his eyes at the lumpy mess of chocolate chip cookie dough.

M'gann laughed, a clear clap of sound that quavered in the air.

"I suppose not," she conceded. "But they should still resemble cookies, I think. Here, let me show you—"

She tentatively placed her fingers on his knuckles and led his hands back to the rolling pin, and he acquiesced without a word to her guidance, watching the way her auburn hair spilled over her shoulder as she leaned forward over the counter, her freckled cheek barely a couple of inches from his face.

_Try not to be so angry_. Her voice echoed coolly in his temples. _This cookie dough did you no harm._

_Now you're just making fun of me_, he thought back dryly, but he curled his fingers around the rolling pin's handles and didn't protest when she put her own fingers over his, moving the pin forward and backward carefully, with rhythm.

_No!_ she protested, sounding genuinely apologetic, and her brown eyes widened as her head whipped around to meet his eyes. _I would never..._

Her thoughts trailed away when their eyes met, and Superboy had never been this close to her before – there were odd things swimming behind the amber of her irises, things like far-off indigo galaxies and shooting stars and unknown planets; the presence of them made him feel uneven, teetering on the edge of something indescribable. Her lips parted in something like surprise and he blinked at her, perplexed by her sudden change in demeanor.

He abruptly noticed something unusual – her dotted cheeks had begun to adopt an unusual color. He knew perfectly well that humans often fell prey to a phenomenon called _blushing_; he had seen Wally's face turn red on multiple occasions during training when he would trip or make a mistake – but that was just it; faces turned red.

M'gann's cheeks were green.

_Your face_... He frowned, lifting a hand from beneath hers as if to touch her cheek. _It's—your cheeks are green._

M'gann gasped and leaped back, her palms shooting away from his hands and immediately jerking up to cover her cheeks. Her eyes were wide with something like terror. Superboy stepped away reproachfully, not entirely sure what he'd done, and the rolling pin fell to the floor with a _crack_.

"I'm – I'm sorry," he blurted out, even though he didn't know what he was sorry about. They seemed to be good words to say, however – at least, that was what he'd observed. That was what he had said to Superman, when the elder Kryptonian had stared down at him with an expression alternating between shock and something equal to disgust.

"Oh—" M'gann stammered, still clutching her face. "No, no, Superboy; _I'm _sorry; it wasn't you..."

Superboy opened his mouth, doubtless to say something else pointless and stupid and dull and everything else he felt tempted to punch himself in the face for, but was cut off by the sound of loud laughter coming from the hallway. He and M'gann turned in unison toward the source of the noise, just in time to see Wally come striding in from the direction of the entrance room, followed by a taller, more ornery-looking redhead with discerning blue eyes.

"Step aside, folks!" Wally called out grandly, throwing his arms in the air with enthusiasm. "We have a visitor!"

Superboy and M'gann stared blankly at the both of them, and M'gann lowered her hands – her cheeks had returned to their normal color. Superboy glanced at them for an instant, choosing not to point it out.

"Please hold your applause, ladies and gentlemen," Wally continued with a flourish. "I have the _distinct _honor of introducing your entertainment for this evening – the one, the only—"

"I'm Roy," the other boy interrupted bluntly, crossing his muscular arms and glowering at Superboy and M'gann. "Red Arrow."

Wally throttled the air in exasperation.

"For Pete's sake, Roy, that was the best part!" he yelled, sounding insulted. M'gann had to bite her lip to hold back a giggle. "Nobody appreciates the emcees anymore."

"What're you here for?" Superboy grunted, eyeing Roy suspiciously. He couldn't say that he was charmed by the other boy's blatantly aggrieved attitude.

Roy grimaced, throwing his head back.

"Baseball," he muttered. "I am here for _baseball_."

A whirring sound suddenly erupted from the farther end of the hallway, but nobody seemed to notice except for Superboy until the telltale announcement of zeta tube use – a loud, short-lived beep – echoed through the mountain.

"Wonder who that is," Superboy mused, putting his hands in his pockets. Wally was out of the room in seconds, leaving behind a gust that tousled everyone's hair; Superboy glanced at M'gann, who shrugged, before deciding to follow the speedster. She trailed along behind him as he strolled down the length of the brightly lit, metal-walled hallway into the entrance platform.

"Oh, swell; it's _you_," he heard Wally say snidely. Mystery solved.

Sure enough, when he and M'gann rounded the corner into the larger room, they saw Artemis standing woozily near the complex zeta tube receptacle, her hands on her knees, somewhat doubled over. Wally was staring at her with an unimpressed expression.

"Hello, Artemis," M'gann called shyly, waving at the archer, who gave her a vague thumbs-up.

"Never going to get used to those things," Artemis rasped, finally straightening up, swaying slightly before she seemed to collect herself and step away from the tube, untying the scarlet bandana holding her hair back.

"Maybe you're simply having an allergic reaction to decent people," Wally snipped. Artemis, in retaliation, shot him a pointed, deadpan stare. He scoffed and muttered to himself before stalking away, making a beeline back to the kitchen.

"How are you, Artemis?" M'gann inquired, blatantly attempting to break the tension. Artemis blinked and looked over at her as though she'd forgotten she was there. "We haven't – seen you in a while."

"Oh – I'm fine, Mags; thanks for asking," Artemis replied; not very convincingly, Superboy might add. "Hey, Supes."

"Hi," Superboy riposted plainly.

"So," Artemis said, putting her hands on her hips. "I hear Mr. Wonderful's trying to rope us all into being on his Little League team."

"So it would seem," M'gann confirmed wearily, pushing a segment of her hair behind one freckled ear. "He brought one of his friends. I think he's still in the kitchen, if you'd... like to meet him?"

Artemis shrugged apathetically, yawning behind one hand.

"Might as well," she mumbled.

She waited for M'gann to start leading the way into the kitchen before following, and Superboy fell into step beside her as the three of them walked down the hall. He glanced at her in his peripheral vision and raised his eyebrows at her taut expression.

"Are you – mad about something?" he asked her bluntly, tightening his fists fleetingly on instinct.

Artemis lifted her head and frowned up at him. She was nearly a head shorter than he was, he realized. She seemed uncharacteristically petite all of a sudden.

"Not that I'm aware of, no," she said dryly, quirking one precise eyebrow. "Why? Are you concerned?"

Superboy grumbled noncommittally and strayed his attention upon entering the kitchen, where Roy was still standing in the exact same spot with his arms still crossed irascibly. Wally was jabbering at him about something that nobody could be bothered to listen to, and Superboy's eyes narrowed in annoyance at the noise.

"Is Kaldur here?" Roy broke in suddenly, his scowl deepening.

Wally blinked, taken aback.

"He should be around somewhere," he answered. "I telephoned him and he said he'd be here, so..."

"He's in his room." Everyone but Wally jumped at the sound of Robin's voice, which had apparently come out of nowhere, and all heads reared back to find him hanging upside-down from one of the ceiling rafters. He was leering down at them, the wideness of his smile causing him to squint.

"For Pete's sake, Rob, get down," Wally groaned, slumping his shoulders in exasperation. Robin sniggered.

"What's the matter, Wallace? 'Fraid I'll fall?" He expertly somersaulted off of the rafter and hopped down to the top of the refrigerator before landing silently on the floor and straightening up with his hands on his hips, still grinning. "How droll."

"Where've _you_been?" Superboy asked bluntly, his brow furrowed. Robin seemed highly amused by the question.

"Neither here nor there, my chiseled friend," he answered. He ended the sentence by loping over to Wally and slinging his arm around the other boy's shoulder (Superboy noticed that he did that a lot), pushing his sunglasses further up on his nose. "So, has our friendly neighborhood nimrod informed you of today's planned activities?"

"We've been briefed, yes," Artemis replied sarcastically, narrowing her eyes at Wally, who rolled his eyes.

"Sort of," Superboy added pointedly. Wally had told them nothing outside of the fact that they all absolutely had to be free on Saturday the seventh or the world would end. M'gann hadn't believed him, thankfully, but her unending loyalty had persuaded her immediately to be there, and her presence gave Superboy enough reason to be there, too. He liked M'gann's company. He liked her smile.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," Roy said suddenly in a strangely low voice. All eyes swiveled to him to find that he was glaring, unfaltering, at Artemis.

"No, I don't believe we have," Artemis replied in-kind, crossing her arms defensively. "But you look familiar."

"Vague recognition. That's a big honor, coming from the dame Green Arrow brought in to replace me," Roy growled. Superboy saw Wally and Robin's eyebrows go up, and even his eyes went a bit wider at Roy's hostile tone.

Artemis, however, was apparently having none of it, not even flinching in response. She simpered at Roy, but said nothing.

"Can you even _use _a bow and arrow?" Roy demanded hotly, with a hint of mockery. Artemis scoffed.

"Yes, I can," she bit back. "Hence my being _brought in_, which I _wasn't_, by the by. I made my own way here and I have no intention of leaving."

"I wouldn't _dream _of asking you to." Roy sneered.

"Um..." M'gann began softly, hopefully, in an attempt to break the tense atmosphere. "Perhaps we can—"

"So you're the famous Speedy," Artemis mused, half to herself and half to Roy as her eyes scanned his form. Despite her bristling demeanor, Superboy could tell that she was impressed.

"It's _Red Arrow_," Roy barked. "Those days are behind me."

Artemis smirked.

"Ironic, considering how snapped your cap is about me filling the spot you left," she said, blatantly amused.

Roy bridled, his shoulders stiffening, and opened his mouth to retort, but Superboy's super-hearing detected the approach of footsteps and he turned his head to see Kaldur standing in the doorway.

"Hi, Kaldur," he greeted the Atlantean pointedly, gesturing with his eyes to the fuming Artemis and Roy.

Kaldur blinked at him as he finished rolling up and buttoning the sleeves of his white cotton shirt, turning his attention to the two archers, who had jumped at Superboy's words and whirled around in unison to face Kaldur.

He frowned at them.

"Is something the matter?" he asked coolly. Artemis hung her head churlishly and focused on grinding the scuffed toe of her saddle shoe against the tiled floor. Roy folded his arms and looked away, scowling.

"Bad first impressions!" Wally interjected, leaning into view with a waving, dismissive arm. "You know how it is, Kal."

Kaldur let out a muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter, looking pointedly from Wally to Artemis and back again.

"I do." He let his arms cross loosely, surveying the roomful of teammates. "So, Wally, for what purpose have you gathered us here today?"

Wally beamed at the question, stepping into the center of the room with his hands on his hips. Superboy saw Robin's eyes roll over the rims of his sunglasses.

"Okay, Team!" Wally declared, his enthusiasm bursting out onto the walls. "You've all been brought here today for one specific purpose: the defense of honor."

"Huh?" Artemis grunted, raising her eyebrow. Wally ignored her.

"This will not be easy," he plowed on, expression darkening dramatically. "It will be grueling and potentially violent, and it will take every last _ounce _of teamwork and skill to come out on top. You might not make it to the ninth inning. You might even skin your knees. But I promise you, you'll be making sacrifices for a noble cau—"

"Ninth _inning_?!" Artemis exclaimed so incredulously that it was almost comedic. "You want us to play _baseball_?!"

Wally clamped his mouth shut, the grin vanishing, and let his head drop back in huge exasperation.

"Thanks for the big reveal, Blondie," he said flatly. "Is ruining surprises your day job?"

"Baseball?" M'gann chimed in, her hands clasped, her eyes wide. "It sounds awfully dangerous. How do you play?"

"Baseball," Superboy inserted before Wally could respond, staring straight ahead. "Came to prominence in the United States in the mid-1850s. A bat-and-ball sport played between two teams of nine players. Four outfielders, three infielders, a catcher, and a pitcher. One turn at bat for each player marks an inning. There are nine innings in a game. The batting team takes turns hitting against the pitcher of the fielding team. Teams switch whenever three outs are recorded. The object of the game is to score enough runs to win. Runs are scored when a player gets from first base to fourth, or home."

He couldn't help it, really. Cadmus had programmed him with the most bountiful trove of knowledge that he could imagine, and sometimes when people asked factual questions he would spew out the answer before he could stop himself. It was part of how he was built. It used to leave a bit of a bitter taste in his mouth, but that had ebbed with each grateful smile or clap on the back that the Team would give him after he would answer one of their inquiries.

Everyone stared at him, slack-jawed, after he was finished. The kitchen was utterly silent except for the hum of the refrigerator. Superboy fidgeted and shifted from one foot to the other, glancing away and feeling his cheeks start to heat up at the uncomfortable weight of the attention.

"S-Sorry, I—" he started to say inarticulately, but Wally's face split into a wide grin and he raised his thumb in approval.

"Supey, you are a river to your people," Wally declared, clearly pleased that he hadn't had to explain it himself. M'gann was frowning to herself, tugging at her fingers the way she did when she was thinking hard.

Wally opened his arms wide in triumph, beaming around at everyone.

"That's it, champs! Now that we're all on the same page, let's go get your uniforms and shake a leg down to the sandlot to meet Zatanna and Barbara, shall we?"

Artemis was letting out unintelligible splutters, but Robin had already grabbed her by the elbow and started leaning her down the hallway, probably toward the locker rooms. M'gann glanced between Wally and Superboy before following, and Kaldur gave a resigned sigh as he joined them.

Superboy, though he didn't know who Zatanna or Barbara were and really had no idea what Wally was planning, didn't ask any questions and shuffled along behind the others. Wally clapped his hands together and sped on ahead, whooshing by Superboy and leaving behind a vortex of wind that blew his hair in all directions. The sound of disgruntled stomping behind him alerted him that Roy had decided to acquiesce as well.

Superboy didn't really pay much attention to Wally's pep talk as they met up with the girls after everyone had changed. The only thing he really noticed was that M'gann's little red-and-white striped baseball cap looked – of all things – _cute_. As a button, even.

He, on the other hand, felt ridiculous.

Wally's honor better be worth it.


End file.
